The Phoenix
by R.L. Woodson
Summary: AU. The Second Rebellion is underway and the Kingdom of Winchester is struggling. The angels are stuck in a cold war and an old friend returns, threatening Castiel and Dean's relationship. Castiel doesn't even know how to be an angel. How is he supposed to help save Dean's cursed kingdom? (Sequel to The Raven)
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** The Phoenix

 **Rated:** M

 **Summary:** AU. The Second Rebellion is underway and the Kingdom of Winchester is struggling. The angels are stuck in a cold war and an old friend returns, threatening Castiel and Dean's relationship. Castiel doesn't even know how to be an angel. How is he supposed to help save Dean's cursed kingdom? (Sequel to the Raven)

 **A/N:** So the sequel has arrived! Yay! In this fic, you'll be seeing behind the curtain of the elusive angel kingdom, you'll get a more in-depth look at Sam and Gabe's relationship, and maybe, if I work hard enough, you'll experience the full spectrum of human emotion, including manic laughter and gross sobbing. There will be very M rated things, such as graphic sexy times, lots of swearing, and some descriptive violence. I'm not sure exactly when I'll begin posting, but I'm aiming to be more than halfway done before I start so I get get updates to you lovely readers quickly.

Just a quick thank you to everyone who's read _The Raven_ and my other fics. I would literally not be doing this without you. Review this story to your heart's content, even if it's an all-caps rant about how angry you are at the the gross sobbing parts I mentioned earlier. So now, please enjoy _The Phoenix_.

 **Chapter One**

 _Thump_. Castiel landed a few yards from Bobby's front door, avoiding the hydrangeas. He was getting better at landing- it was no longer curl up in a ball and hope for the best.

He shook his hair out of his eyes. Dean said he should get it cut soon. A little bit of pain twinged in Castiel's chest. He missed Dean. He hadn't seen him in nearly a week now, and that was like eternity to him.

Castiel rolled his shoulders and folded his wings. He stepped inside Bobby's house to the sound of crashing.

"Dammit ya idjit! I toldja I don't hide sweets up there!" Bobby was glaring at Gabe, Castiel's newly appointed "assistant", who sat atop one of his bookcases with a box in his hands.

"It's an Augustus Chocolate box, what do you expect me to think?" He scowled into the box. "It's just extra pens. You get my hopes up for nothing, Bobby."

"We can get you some chocolates in a few days," Castiel smiled up at his best friend, who grinned down at him.

"Cassie! We have a surprise for you!" Gabe managed to leap down from the six-foot-tall bookshelf. "I didn't have much to work with, but Bobby patches up his own clothes, so we at least had a needle and thread." The shorter man rifled through a pile of cloth. "Ah, yes, here." He handed Castiel what looked like a nice shirt.

"I don't understand. What-" He turned the shirt over to see reinforced slits cut into the back for wings, and buttoned extensions of that slit down to the hem, allowing Castiel to remove the shirt without upsetting his wings.

"Wow!" he took it from Gabe. "Thank you!"

"Least we could do, boy. You've been translating everything for me in between your workin' times."

"And you always make that face when you have to take your shirt off." Gabe put on a serious expression and furrowed his brows and grimaced.

"Is that what I look like?" Castiel's hand reached behind him to one of his sore wings. They had grown stronger in the few weeks since they'd sprouted from his back, and they were firm and sinewy now.

Gabe laughed and patted Castiel on his bare shoulder. "You can't test it today though. You've got the thing with Michael."

Castiel bit back a groan. He was finally going to meet with the two Commanders of the angels today. It would be the first meeting, just a conversation spelling out that the humans wanted to form some sort of alliance, and the details were open for discussion. Still, he was nervous.

Castiel had only been introduced to a few angels. Crowley had taken it upon himself to help Castiel out, and though he was the "Independent Party", he had shown his support for the new angel's endeavor to unite human and angel kind alike. Castiel had met Crowley's right hand women: Bela and Ava.

Bela was sly and flirtatious, with a sharply angled face and bright hazel eyes. Ava was sweeter, with soft features and an easy smile. It was amazing to see them with Crowley. They teased him endlessly, like sisters would, but Castiel could see from their body language that they were not to be trifled with.

Ava and Bela had taught Castiel how to properly clean and maintain his wings. He had felt incredibly awkward in the river with the three, naked as the day he was born. This, apparently, wasn't uncommon. Ava and Bela threw their clothes at the edge of the river like they couldn't care less if someone took them.

Castiel was still getting used to it. He was learning that it was a friendly gesture to touch the back of an angel's wings. Ava and Bela talked animatedly about the rich raven color of the feathers as they scraped the dirt and salt away from the skin. They wouldn't touch the undersides of his wings though. That was for a mate only.

Crowley had given Castiel a pair of pants to wear, which was the only thing that male angels wore. The women wore the same sort of pants, though a bit shorter, and these halter-type shirts. There was a strap that went around the neck, and thin pieces attached to the sides that could be tied under their wings. It was wild, but efficient.

"Cassie," Gabe snapped Castiel out of his thoughts.

"Right, shower." Castiel bathed himself quickly, combing his fine feathers with his oil to protect them. He donned the surprisingly soft brown pants and shook the water out of his hair.

"Crowley's waiting outside," Bobby grunted when Castiel walked down the stairs.

"Because you wouldn't let me in," Crowley's voice floated through the window.

"You're damn right," the man huffed. "After what you did to that book, you deserve a lot more than house exile."

"I'd love to flirt later Bobby, but Castiel and I have a meeting to attend. Send him out."

Bobby patted him on the back, and Gabe crushed him into a quick hug. "You got this, Cassie."

"Thank you," Castiel took a breath and walked outside. Crowley had a heap of something in his arms. There were beads and leaves and gems and…

"Is that jewelry?"

"Of course it is," Crowley dumped it on the ground. "You're not going to visit the Commanders with a bare neck. These are carcanets, and they show power and prestige." He started rifling through the pile, and Castiel noticed that he wore his own.

"You have quite a few," Castiel observed.

Crowley looked down at his own neck. "Earned every one of them, love," he continued rifling. "Garnet and obsidian is my signature. For you…" He pulled out several large strings. "Gold and sapphire should do. Oh, and maybe some lapis lazuli."

He piled on the carcanets until Castiel was sure he looked like a king or something. His neck muscles were going to get quite a work out as well.

"Now, show me your greeting," Crowley stepped back.

Castiel bowed his head, aware of the weight shifting on his neck, and spread his wings wide and angled downwards. The carcanets tickled the closest feathers, but it wasn't as distracting as Castiel thought it would be.

"When greeting the highest power, make a fist and lay it over your heart," Crowley instructed. Castiel did so, and the red-winged angel smiled. "Good. You're ready."

Castiel felt a brief spark of nerves, but they fled quickly. It was a decent walk before they would reach Michael's territory and Castiel suggested they give Michael's guard enough time to observe them before they met with the Commander. Flying into their airspace could mean attacks from angels who haven't heard of the plans for a meeting.

So they walked. And as they walked, they encountered more of Crowley's angels, or, at least, who Castiel thought were Crowley's angels. Bela and Ava were with them, so at least Castiel knew there was little threat of danger.

"Hello, Castiel," Ava landed softly next to him, nudging his wing with hers. "Good luck today."

"Thank you, Ava," he said with a little smile.

A man padded up to Crowley seemingly from nowhere and whispered in his ear. He was tall, with sandy blonde hair and an expression on his face that was much older than the angel looked.

Crowley caught Castiel looking at the new angel. "Castiel, this is Gadreel, my eyes and ears for the human world."

"It is an honor," Gadreel bowed to Castiel, fist over his heart. His wings were a sandy tan, the exact color of his hair. It was weird seeing that directed to himself.

"I'm not a king, there's no need for that," Castiel mumbled, shifting nervously.

Gadreel cleared his throat. "My apologies."

After a moment, the group continued walking. "What's happening in the human world?" Castiel found himself asking.

Gadreel glanced at Crowley, who nodded. "Some riots, several dead," he said. "No attacks to the castle or surrounding land, though."

Castiel let out a relieved breath. He felt bad that there was still violence being made, but Dean wasn't in trouble, not right now, and that was good to Castiel.

There was silence after that, and in ten minutes, Gadreel dropped back and flew away. A few minutes after that, Ava brushed his wings and disappeared. "We're getting close," Crowley explained. "Just act as I said and you'll be fine. And remember, Michael has a rubbish sense of humor."

Castiel's heart leapt into his throat as they neared a clearing. He could see angels sitting in the surrounding branches, watching them come closer. There were a few on the ground, and most of the carried spears. Two of the spear carriers stopped them at the entrance of the clearing.

"State your business," a man with dark skin and olive wings stood in their way, hard expression on his face.

"Raphael, let them pass. It's Castiel, isn't it?" an easy voice floated from inside.

Crowley took a few steps backwards. "You know where to find me, afterwards," he said. When Castiel stayed frozen, he motioned for him to go inside.

With a gulp, the raven-winged angel walked into Michael's clearing. It was… surprisingly beautiful. The Commander was sitting in what looked like a lightening-struck tree, split down the middle with the back branches fanning downwards. About fifteen feet up, a throne had been carved, and Michael sat regally on it. His chest was decorated with carcanets of gold and white opal, clean enough to sparkle in the beams of light filtering through the trees.

Castiel could see from his spot on the ground that Michael's eyes were green, like Dean's, but with much less warmth in them. His hair was a rich brown, combed neatly back, and his large wings were a dark metallic gold. He looked indisputably royal.

"Commander," Castiel remembered, bowing with his fist over his heart, as Crowley had instructed. "My name is Castiel, and I'm here to represent humankind."

Michael chuckled, though his smile didn't reach his eyes. "An angel, negotiating on behalf of the humans. I thought I'd never see the day."

"Yes, well," Castiel shifted from foot to foot. "My Grace was bound when I was very young, so I grew up essentially human. However, I am an angel, now fully endowed with my Grace, and I believe that is a good background for someone who is to act as an emissary between the two species."

Michael sat back, contemplating Castiel's words. "Logic would see it that way. But why should I believe that your allegiance does not lay solely with the humans? Look around you." Castiel's eyes flitted nervously around the clearing, but he stood tall. "Our numbers are few. Your ancestors hunted us, forcing us to flee to the forest, to hide ourselves away. Why should I believe you do not mean us harm?"

Castiel was ready for this one. "It is true I grew up human, and thus empathize with them, but I am biologically, mentally, and spiritually an angel. I will never be accepted as a human again, and I do not wish to be. Inside, I want to bring the two halves of myself together, and I believe an alliance between our kingdoms would benefit everyone."

Michael nodded. "Your words are true. I know that _you_ wish to do us no harm. What of the other humans?"

"I am an olive branch. The human kingdom of Winchester wishes to communicate with angels. They have not come themselves with swords or cannons. They sent me, an unarmed ambassador, to show you that they want to remain peaceful."

"And what do they wish to communicate to us now?"

Castiel opened and closed his mouth. "Uh, this is just a preliminary meeting. What would you think of a sort of alliance? Or a peace treaty? Nothing binding today."

Michael scowled down at him, and Castiel could feel it like a weight. "It has always been my belief that angels are superior to humans in every way. The best option, in my opinion, would be for the king of Winchester to submit to me and hand over his subjects." Michael said this so casually, as if he were only musing, and Castiel had to fight to keep his hands from balling into fists.

"I don't believe the humans would agree to that," Castiel said slowly, voice dropping a few notes.

Michael seemed to pick up on his irritation and smiled. "Bring me a proposal, then. Bring me a designed treaty, with written laws allying the Kingdom of Winchester and the Garrison.. I want to see what the humans come up with." He snapped his fingers at a nearby tree, and an angel dropped to the ground and bowed. "Zachariah, you will do the same. Try to be as… fair… as possible. We will meet here at a later date to discuss."

Zachariah gave Castiel a nasty smile. The blue-eyed angel didn't think Zachariah would be as _fair_ as even Michael would be.

Michael looked like he was about to wave the two away, but paused. "Who are you, Castiel?" he asked.

What did he mean? Castiel tried not to squirm under the weight of Michael's gaze. "I'm the representative, a fairly new angel, but still-"

"I mean," Michael cut him off, "what is your lineage? What generation are you? Who are your parents? And why, on god's green earth, was your Grace bound for so long?"

Castiel opened and closed his mouth like a fish. He didn't know. He hadn't even thought about that, with all the events going on. "I-I don't know," he stuttered.

For a moment, Michael stared at him like a puzzle. Castiel began to sweat. Then, as if a string were cut, Michael dropped back into his chair. "You are dismissed," the Commander waved his hand, bored expression taking over his features.

Castiel bowed and walked quickly out of the clearing. When Raphael resumed his position in front of the entrance, Castiel dug his heels into the ground and took off.

He flew fast and hard to Crowley's favorite spot by the river. Michael's words were concerning. He felt so small fifteen feet below the commanding angel, his words constricting and contemptuous. Castiel disliked him immensely.

When he reached the river, Crowley's little rag-tag team was waiting anxiously for him. Too emotionally drained to explain, Castiel flopped on the ground, remembering at the last second to fold his wings over the sensitive spots.

"That bad, huh?" Bela sat next to him.

"You still have Lucifer today," Crowley called. The smell of roasting meat wafted over Castiel, and he groaned. "Come on, eat up. You'll want your strength for round two."

o o o

Dean rubbed his eyes again. "Show me the contracts again."

Two nobles were in the middle of a heated dispute over the borders of their lands. Lord Devereaux claimed that Lord Gaines stole and slaughtered almost fifty of his cattle to sell, and Lord Gaines insisted that the cattle were his, on his property, maintained by his servants. The debate was quite close to the line where their properties met, and there were no servants that could give an accurate location. They were all scared shitless.

Dean didn't have time for these petty quarrels. So far, only one village had been decimated by a rebel attack, but there would be more. He needed more troops, troops that he didn't have, and he needed to focus.

The door to the throne room banged open, and Dean was strung out enough to yell at whoever was going to disturb them, but it was Sam, and Sam had a grave expression on his face. He murmured something to Dean's guards, Jody and Donna, and they nodded.

As Sam approached, Lords Devereaux and Gaines stood and bowed. "This discussion is to be tabled for next week," Dean told the two nobles. "My brother and I have important matters to attend to."

Devereaux looked pleased and Gaines looked angry, but they both bowed and left without another word.

Before Dean could say anything, Sam held up a little leather-bound book with a small gold "JW" etched in the front.

"Dad's journal," Dean blinked. "Where'd you find it?"

"I was going through some of his old stuff, and I found something in it, something you should see." The Winchesters left the throne room and slipped into an empty conference room, Jody and Donna standing watch.

"Dean," Sam took a deep breath, "we have another brother."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Thank you Iamsuperwholocked27, hellosweetpea, and WarpedMinded for your reviews! This will definitely be a plot-packed fic, _and_ I've gotten even better at cliffhangers. There will be fluff, but also angst galore.

Also, shout out to Doctor Who for being so reference-able.

 **Chapter Two**

Dean's mouth fell open. "What?" he hissed.

Sam opened the journal to a bookmarked page and began to read. _"This evening, Kate told me she was pregnant. I don't know how it happened, I was so careful. Mary doesn't know, and I've made the decision not to tell her. I feel terribly about all of this, but I know I can't leave Kate with her abusive husband. I will stop this affair, but maybe Kate can work in the castle as a maid. The child can be raised as a Milligan, but I can still look after him."_

Sam paused and flipped a few more pages. "This is a month later. _Kate has decided to name the boy Adam, after her father. She's settling into her position well, and understands that our relations have ended, permanently. Sammy's birthday is tomorrow, and she kindly knitted him a scarf."_

Dean sat back in his chair, staring at the wood of the table. "Adam Milligan," he said, disbelieving. "Adam… is our half-brother?"

Sam nodded. "According to this, he is."

"Adam, like Charlie's assistant Adam."

"Yeah." There was a moment of silence. "I don't think he knows."

After another minute, Dean rose from his chair and opened the door. "Donna?"

"Yes, Your Majesty?" the guard asked.

"Will you please retrieve Adam Milligan from the kitchens for me? Bring him back here."

Donna bowed her head and was off. "Dean," Sam said warningly. "Be nice to him. He's done nothing wrong." Dean knew this was true, but he was seething inside. He was angry, but at his father. John had been unfaithful to Mary. Mary, the sweetest woman in the world. John had gone behind her back, and hadn't even told her about it.

He focused on breathing deeply and telling himself that it wasn't Adam's fault.

When the boy came in, he looked nervous as hell.

"Your Majesty, Your Highness," he said quietly, bowing low. "You wanted to see me?"

"Have a seat, Adam," Sam said gently. Adam stood there for a second, surely shocked that the king and the prince wanted him to sit at a conference table with him. With a shaky nod, Adam obeyed and put his hands in his lap.

"Do you know who your father was?" Dean asked, keeping his voice steady.

"Uh, no sir," Adam shook his head. "Mom told me he was married and had to go back to another kingdom when he found out she was pregnant. He sent me letters on my birthday, though."

Sam and Dean exchanged a look. "Go get them," Dean ordered.

Adam sent him a confused look and nodded. He was gone for less than ten minutes before he returned with a small stack of letters. He fiddled with them.

"How long have you been receiving these letters?" Sam asked.

"It started when I was five, and then every year from then." Adam frowned at the table. "Didn't get one last year though." Dean closed his eyes. Last year, after their father had been killed during the First Rebellion. Adam would never get one again.

"How old are you?" Dean asked. If Sam was seven when Adam was born, and Sam was twenty-three now, then that would mean Adam was-

"Sixteen, Your Majesty." Yep. That was it. There was only one thing left to compare. Dean held his hand out for the letters, and Adam's eyes widened.

"We don't need to know what they say," Sam began, "we just need to look at the handwriting."

Adam cleared his throat and handed one over. It was yellowed and worn, as if he had taken it out and read it many times. Dean took it out carefully and flipped it open, Sam leaning over his shoulder.

"It's…" Dean took a deep breath. "It's his." It was their father's handwriting, no doubt about that. Sam opened John's journal, and the letters matched perfectly. Adam was Sam and Dean's half-brother.

Dean closed the envelope gently and handed the letter back to Adam. Sam was quiet, waiting for Dean to decide what to do. Not as a king, as an older brother.

"Adam," Dean began, and stopped. Did he straight up tell him? It would change Adam's life for sure. He'd be somewhat royal by blood, but also John's bastard son. The older Winchester sighed. The kid at least deserved the truth.

"Adam," he began again, "your father was John Winchester."

The younger boy sat still for a minute. "No, Your Majesty, he's from another village."

"This is our father's journal," Sam held up John's book. "In it, he writes about an affair with your mother, Kate Milligan." Adam's face went white. "He wrote that he gave her a position as a maid so he could look after you. You're our half-brother."

"That's… I…" Adam tried to grasp the concept.

"It's your choice if you want us to keep quiet about this," Dean said softly. "You can keep your life just the way it is, if you want. If you go public, you'll be recognized as the bastard son of the late king. We'll protect you through that, but it is ultimately your choice."

Adam's head dropped into his hands. "I don't know," he muttered. Sam had his most sympathetic puppy-dog face on, and Dean tried not to roll his eyes. "I don't want this." He sounded like he was about to cry.

Sam moved to pat him on the back, and Dean folded the letter carefully before slipping it back into the envelope. "You are free to continue working in the castle, if you'd like," the king said, standing up. "Family is important to the Winchesters, however short of a time we've known that you're family. You have Winchester blood in your veins, and we will respect your wishes."

Adam sniffed, clearing his throat a few times. "Yes, Your Majesty," he said forcing the tears away and sitting tall.

Dean smiled a bit. He definitely had Winchester in him. "Call me Dean," he said.

"And I'm Sam," the younger Winchester said.

Adam let out a breath. "Okay," he said slowly. "Sam and Dean. How strange," he mumbled the last part.

"Let us know if you need anything," Sam said, standing with Dean. Adam rose too, bowed awkwardly, and left without another word.

Dean opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He shook his head. Sam sighed. "I know."

o o o

Lucifer's camp was at the base of a hill near several caves, out of the thick of the forest. Castiel left Crowley at the sparse tree line and walked towards the throng of laughing men, each of them carrying heavy metal weapons.

Castiel approached cautiously, clearing his throat as loudly as possible when none of the angels seemed to hear him. That did it, and the crowd slowly parted.

The raven-winged angel was startled to see two men grappling on the ground, the thinner one clearly winning. Castiel waited patiently for the smaller angel to overpower the other one, which he did easily. He dug his knee into the other angel's chest, gripped his wrists above his head, and planted his foot on the other angel's face. His winged were crushed under him at an uncomfortable angle. It looked very painful, but both angels were smiling.

"Ah! Castiel!" The winner grinned up at him. "I've been waiting for you. Want to have a turn?"

Castiel took a deep breath to keep himself from shuddering. This was definitely Lucifer. "No thank you, Commander," he smiled to appear comfortable. "I'm afraid I'd make a poor opponent. You'd defeat me in a matter of seconds."

This seemed to put Lucifer at ease, and he rolled off the other angel. "Some other time, then." He motioned to a large table- the stump of an incredibly wide tree- and Castiel sat on a rocky but comfortable chair across from him. A young female angel immediately jumped on his lap and pecked him on the cheek, draping heavy ruby and citrine carcanets over his neck.

"So… _Castiel_ ," Lucifer drew out his name. "I hear you're the humans' pet."

Oh. This was not what he was expecting. Still, he kept himself professional, reminded himself to be unfazed by whatever he said.

"I am actually an emissary, sir," Castiel said. "I've been sent to represent humankind, who would like to communicate with the angels."

Lucifer leaned forward, ignoring the woman stroking his hair. "But you were human once," he breathed, unabashed curiosity on his face. "What was that like?"

"Um, I did not have my Grace," he begun. That was a strange question to ask. Of course he felt different now, but he hadn't ever thought back to the difference between now and before. "As I am an angel, without my Grace I felt incomplete and weak. I was very happy to get it back."

"Do all humans feel that way?" he murmured darkly. "Weak?"

"No," Castiel said carefully. "I cannot say for sure, but I have seen many strong humans, worthy of being an angel's ally." Yes, good, bring it back to the task at hand. "That's what I've come to speak about."

"What was your transformation like?" Lucifer asked, ignoring Castiel's attempt at professionalism entirely.

Castiel shifted in his seat. "It was, ah, painful." That was the best thing he could come up with. Lucifer didn't need to know about the surge of power so great that Castiel thought he'd been blinded by _himself_ , or how every bone and muscle in his back tore itself to shreds only to grow ten times the amount to form wings.

"Shall we get back to business now?"

Lucifer leaned back and turned to the woman. He grasped her chin in his fingers. "Business," he said in a tone that one would use with a child. "Boring, don't you think?"

She nodded and giggled, and Castiel felt uncomfortable.

"However, it is necessary." He turned back to Castiel and shrugged. "Lilith, why don't you go get us some snacks?"

The girl, Lilith, got up and bowed before skipping off. "You were saying?" Lucifer asked.

"Yes, right," Castiel composed himself again. "The kingdom of Winchester wishes to form an alliance with the angels."

"The Garrison," Lucifer corrected.

Castiel refrained from fidgeting. "Yes, the Garrison. They believe that uniting two strong races would be beneficial to everyone. I completely agree, and I have lived both an a human and angel."

Lucifer… pouted? "But humans are so…" he waved his hand towards nothing. "They're stupid and whiny and dependent on _everything_."

"Well, they have much to offer, and they want to discuss how their people and angel kind can help each other. This is just a preliminary meeting, an olive branch to-"

"I can see how they'd think that," Lucifer mused. "But the kingdom of Winchester. That's a risky deal right there."

Castiel's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Lucifer looked at him as if he'd missed something obvious. "It's cursed. You know that, right?"

For what seemed like the thousandth time that day, Castiel was speechless. What the hell did that mean? "Pardon?"

Lucifer rolled his eyes as Lilith set a plate of fruit in front of the two. He popped a grape into his mouth. "You know," he chewed thoughtfully. "Hundred year old curse, land goes up in flames, blah blah."

"How- what-" Castiel sputtered.

"I'm sure you're going to talk to Michael about this too," Lucifer made a face when he said Michael's name. "And you know what he's going to do? He's not going to say a damn thing about it. The smart thing, that would be to make an alliance, take the humans' resources, and watch them burn." Lucifer ate another grape casually. "I'm pretty excited for that last part."

Castiel was silent for a long moment. It couldn't be true. Lucifer was just fucking with him, getting in his head.

"You don't believe me, do you?" Lucifer chuckled. "It's just a story, but I have it on good authority that the story is true."

Castiel stared at the table, clinging to those words. _It's just a story, it's just a story, it's just a story._

"Go back to your humans. Think about it. But don't take too long, the fire waits for no one."

Castiel rose numbly and walked away from the boisterous chatting. He repeated those words, _It's just a story_ , but Chuck's prophecy had been seared into his brain. And that first line…

 _The blackened blanked 'cross the soil._

And Lucifer's words…

 _Land goes up in flames, blah blah._

With a few stumbling steps, Castiel took off again, flying faster and harder than he ever had before. Not even a minute later, he crash landed next to the river next to Crowley's people and flung off his carcanets. The setting sun painted the ground with their shadows, and Castiel splashed himself with the cold river water.

"Castiel?" an angel named Tessa ran over to him. "Castiel, what's wrong?"

"I need a drink," He said, rubbing his temples. "I need all of the drinks."

Tessa helped him up and pulled him over to the group. Apparently he looked pretty shaken up, because Crowley looked a bit concerned. He never looked concerned. "Let's go inside. That's where we keep the alcohol."

"Inside?" Castiel muttered. He was being dragged to a tree, followed by the rest of the group. Were they all going to climb the tree?

To his surprise, Crowley pulled him through the tree, bits of light dancing around Castiel's eyes when they passed through. It was like a door to… of course, this was Crowley's place.

It was larger than the tree could be, bigger on the inside. There was stone and brick everywhere, tall arches and vaulted ceilings illuminated by bright torchlight. Crowley was undoubtedly a drama queen. Luckily, there were also many red velvet chairs and couches, which Castiel nearly threw himself on.

"Please tell me you have whiskey," he muttered, scrubbing a hand down his face.

Crowley scoffed. "Whiskey won't get angels drunk. I have spirits that could bring kings to their knees!"

Bela rolled her eyes, perching next to Castiel. "He's very proud of his collection."

Crowley returned with square-shaped crystal glasses full of a translucent orange liquid. Everyone clinked the glasses together and begun to drink. Castiel took a large gulp and immediately regretted it. This was not whiskey. This burned like fire, sliding down his throat and settling heavily in his gut. After the initial eye-watering pain, Castiel took a breath and felt a nice little rush.

"What is this?" he asked Crowley.

Crowley opened his mouth, and gibberish came out. "Mah-lah-pih-ro-geh Roh-zeh-tah-neh."

Castiel waited for his brain to catch up. He was good at translating Enochian written words, but spoken words were like a whole other language. After a second, he tilted his head. "Fire wine?"

Ava plopped on the couch and laughed. "I guess that's as close of a translation as you're going to get," she smiled. "We just call it Zetaneh. It's Crowley's favorite."

"Now have a sip and loosen that tongue," Crowley sat on a table in front of the couch, and somewhere, music began to play. It was fast paced, but somehow lulling, and suddenly all Castiel wanted to do was dance and skip and laugh.

"Hey, stay with us," Crowley snapped his fingers in Castiel's face. Someone turned the music down. "What happened with Lucifer?"

Castiel gulped and took a tentative sip from the glass. "Is the Winchester land cursed?" he asked, diverting the question a bit.

Everyone visibly relaxed. "It's just a story, Cassie," Bela patted the back of his wing. "Is that what Lucifer told you about?"

Castiel nodded. They said it was just a story, and Castiel wanted to believe it was just a story, but the prophecy… Should he tell them? The only people who ever knew about Dean's prophecy, besides the man himself, were Chuck, Castiel, Sam, and Gabe, and even then, Gabe barely knew anything about it.

"It freaked me out," Castiel mumbled. "What if it's true? He said that Michael wouldn't tell me about it because he wanted to take the humans' resources and watch them burn, but-"

"Castiel, it's a story. A myth. Lucifer isn't a good guy. He might be charming, but he's just trying to scare you."

"You deserve one night without that burden you carry," Inias suddenly appeared behind Castiel. "Dance with us."

Ava and Bela pulled Castiel to his feet. Perhaps he could use a few hours of relaxation. After all, come sunrise, he had to go relay all this information to Dean and the councils. Maybe not _all_ the information, but still.

With one last pleading look from Tessa, Castiel drained the rest of his Zetaneh and allowed himself to be pulled into the crowd. The music grew louder, and though Castiel could hear it, he wouldn't be able to describe it with any words, Enochian or English.

He felt strange, but a good strange. There were bodies around him, and he could simultaneously feel their exteriors, but also their Grace. It formed a web that ebbed and flowed together. He didn't remember taking another glass, but it was suddenly empty in his hand and being replaced. Ava was there, taking his hand, and Bela was there, ruffling his hair. Gadreel swept the back of his wings over Castiel's, a friendly gesture, and the blue-eyed angel laughed.

Days could have passed, or only minutes, but Castiel couldn't tell. He felt ecstatic, like nothing was wrong with the world. Then, something brushed along sensitive undersides of his wings.

Castiel cried out, feelings of _WrongBadNotDean_ surging through him. He pushed everyone out of his way to find a frightened looking Inias. "I'm sorry, Castiel, I didn't mean to."

Castiel pulled his wings flat into his back. "It's… fine," Castiel muttered finally, avoiding eye contact. It was like he'd been doused with cold water. "I'm just going to go to sleep now."

Without a second thought, Castiel stumbled to the door, but a hand on his arm stopped him. "There's a spare room upstairs," Crowley said. "You can lock it, just use your magic." Castiel hesitated, and Crowley sighed. "Look, you won't be able to make it back to Bobby's tonight, so we can head out after you sleep it off. Most of them have their own homes to get back to, so they won't be here in the morning."

After another moment of hesitation, Castiel sighed. "Thank you."

It took more energy that it should have for Castiel to lock the door behind him, but the music was muffled and no one could get it, so that was a win for him. There was a pounding in his head and a sick coiling in his gut, and after a few minutes wrestling with the soft, fluffy comforter, he lay still.

Dean. It had been too long. He needed to see his love. He rested a hand on his shoulder and pretended it was Dean's, bearing his raised mark. With that thought, he drifted off to sleep.

 **A/N:** Reviews are love!


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Thank you hellosweetpea and drarryismypassion for your reviews! It warms me heart to see that people think my stuff is worthwhile.

Here is your next chapter!

 **Chapter Three**

 _"_ _Thomas," she said. "This is right. This is what should be."_

 _Thomas pulled on his golden-brown locks. "I've told you, time and time again, no."_

 _The woman grasped his silk shirt. "Why do you refuse me? Do you find this form unsightly? Does my voice pierce your ears?"_

 _Thomas gave her a once-over. She was beautiful, truly, with sharp cheekbones and full lips, her wide eyes seemingly innocent. Her voice was melodic, drawing the listener in like a siren. But Thomas knew better._

 _"_ _Abbadon, I can't," he clutched her hand around his shirt. "I am betrothed. And you are…" he trailed off. Abbadon bared her teeth, and for one moment, her eyes flashed black._

Dean sat straight up in bed, sweating through his sheets. His chest was heaving, and he could tell his pulse was faster than it should have been. That dream had been vivid. Really vivid. And weird.

He fell back onto his bed, kicking the sheets off of him and relishing the bit of cool air that came through the thick curtains. He felt… strange. Like he had the regret of a hangover without the pain. And he was a little angry. Extra weird.

He rubbed his eyes and looked around the room. He had realized a few days ago that he still slept on one side of the bed, even when he was alone. That space was empty and sad and damn, Dean needed to see Castiel.

Miles away, Castiel was waking up with the regret _and_ the pain of a hangover. Though Crowley's house was the weird more-space-than-a-tree tree, the sunlight was real, and it streamed inside the window in piercing rays.

Castiel groaned and rolled over. He was going to have to be careful with the Zetaneh from now on.

"Castiel!" Ava sang from the other side of the door. "We have pancakes for you!"

"In a minute," Castiel croaked. There was no more noise, and he was glad that the door was locked. With his magic. He had healed Dean's split lip with his magic before… could he heal himself?

Castiel put one hand on his forehead and one on his stomach, and breathed deeply, thinking about rehabilitation and not being hungover anymore. It must have worked a little, because his headache and nausea subsided, mostly.

With little difficulty, Castiel rolled out of bed, brushed off his pants, and unlocked the door. He followed the scent of fruit and sugar until he was in a room quite like Crowley's 'living room'. It had a long table, and Ava and Bela were happily munching pancakes like they hadn't been shitfaced and dancing their asses off mere hours ago.

Castiel plopped into a chair and begun shoveling the fluffy food into his mouth like there was no tomorrow. Healing himself must have taken a lot of energy, because he scarfed down eight or nine pancakes before Crowley took the plate away.

"Easy, big fella," he said, and Castiel almost growled.

"Sorry we let you get so drunk last night," Ava looked apologetic, but Bela was giving him a shit-eating grin.

"Angel parties can be a bit overwhelming, yes?" she chuckled.

"And Zetaneh's not even the strongest stuff I have," Crowley smiled and Castiel groaned. "Anyway, it's time for us to get you back to Bobby's. Got to go tell the humans about the gracious commanders, hm?" Castiel groaned again, but stood up.

After hugging both Ava and Bela, Castiel trudged outside behind Crowley, stretching his wings in the cool morning air.

"Shall we fly?" Crowley asked.

Castiel rubbed his forehead. "Slowly, please."

They took off, Crowley annoyingly crowding Castiel's space. Instead of taking out his frustrations on him, Castiel focused on the air rushing through his feathers. He would be seeing Dean soon, as they were going to the castle today. He could feel a throb of longing in his chest. Every foot he flew, he could feel Dean come closer and closer.

As soon as they descended enough to see the house, Castiel understood why he felt Dean so strongly. There he was, grinning on the ground outside Bobby's house. "Cas!" he called up to him.

A smile broke out on Castiel's face so huge it hurt. Without even thinking, he folded his wings and dived at Dean, who let out an, "Oh shit!" before Castiel barreled into him. They went sprawling on the grass, Castiel's raven wings wrapping around the two to cushion the fall.

Dean wrapped a strong hand around Castiel's waist and threaded the other through his hair. "I missed you," he murmured before Castiel crushed their lips together. He poured all of his emotions into the kiss, gripping the mark on Dean's shoulder tightly to strengthen the connection. "You missed me too, huh?" he chuckled against Castiel's lips.

"Don't ask stupid questions," he breathed before claiming Dean's lips again.

"Jeez, guys, we're still here," Sam's voice floated through Castiel's hazy thoughts, and he pulled away, cheeks tinted in embarrassment.

Grumbling, Dean kissed him once more on the nose and rolled out of his unfolding wings. "Sorry," Dean scratched the back of his head sheepishly.

"C'mon, Cassie, get your new clothes on before we head back to the castle," Gabe called, already sitting atop Sam's horse.

"Alright," Castiel said, still smiling. "Give me a moment."

Through the window, Castiel could see Dean pull Bobby into a rough hug. His eyes swept around the room as he buttoned the back of his new wing-friendly shirt. Should he take anything with him? The castle had books. He wanted to talk to Sam about the hidden libraries in the secret passageways, and he knew he needed to find Chuck to ask about the various prophecies that recently plagued their lives.

Gabe had graciously made him two more shirts, so he decided to bring those. It was only a few minutes before he was shaking Bobby's hand and being thanked for all of his help.

Dean quietly packed Castiel's shirts, and the angel pulled Bobby aside. "I have a request for you, Bobby."

The older man stuck his hands in his pockets. "Shoot."

Castiel took a deep breath. "Are there any books or papers or anything that talk about angel lineage? Family histories and the like?"

Bobby furrowed his eyebrows. "I'm not sure. Haven't gotten through all the un-translated stuff yet. But I'll keep my eyes open."

Castiel smiled. "Thank you. Hopefully the cypher I made will help you." The cypher was a crude decoder that could translate basic Enochian. Maybe that would be enough.

"Alright, idjits, best be on your way." Bobby shooed them all off the front porch.

Dean was already on his horse, and he smiled down at Castiel. "Wanna ride the human way?" he smiled, holding out a hand.

Castiel made a face, but took his hand anyway. With a subtle flap of his wings and a pull from Dean, the angel sat comfortably behind him. Dean clicked his tongue, and his jet black horse took off at a steady trot, catching up to Sam and Gabe quickly.

"So, Sammy, what's on the schedule for today?" Dean asked, relaxing as Castiel's arms circled his waist. Castiel pressed his forehead between Dean's shoulder blades. Just his presence was comforting. It felt like Castiel had been starving, and Dean was all that sated him.

He had tuned out the talk of scheduling until he heard his name. "…Castiel talk to the council." Sam turned to him. "You talked to the commanders, right?"

The angel shifted awkwardly in the saddle. "Yes." Should he go ahead and tell them what Michael and Lucifer had said? Or was that a strictly council-related matter?

"Cassie?" Gabe snapped him out of his thoughts. "Did everything go okay?"

Sam was staring at him now, and Dean craned his neck to give him a worried glance. "They're, uh, not like I thought they would be," he settled for.

After a few moments of tense silence, Sam and Dean shared a patented Winchester look, and Sam spurred his horse faster. "Where are we going?" Castiel heard Gabe ask Sam as their horse trotted farther and farther away.

Dean turned their horse off the path completely and made for a nearby tree. "Dean?"

"Something's bothering you," the king said, dismounting and tying the horse by the tree. Castiel hopped down, and Dean pulled him to sit against the bark. "Tell me what's wrong."

Castiel squirmed, manhandling Dean under his wing so his feathers could fan out flat against the tree. "They're not good things," Castiel murmured. "I don't even know if I should be telling you at all." Dean raised an eyebrow, and Castiel rolled his eyes. "Of course I'm _going_ to tell you, I tell you everything." Dean's responding grin made Castiel's stony face break.

"It's about that prophecy Chuck gave me a few weeks ago," he sighed. He and Dean hadn't really talked about it. After Castiel's initial freak out, he had avoided the subject. But now that he knew about the curse…

"What is it, Cas? You're staring a hole in the ground."

Blue eyes met green. "Your land is cursed, Dean," he deadpanned.

For a second, Dean just blinked at him. "Run that by me again?"

"Most of the angels think it's just a story, but it says that your land is cursed and-" he swallowed thickly, "it's going to burn, along with everything and everyone in it."

"That's… It's just a story though, right?" Dean's voice was tight.

"I'd like to think it is, but then that line of the prophecy: _The blackened blanket 'cross the soil_. It sounds a lot like burning land." Dean sat back, denial and despair warring in his eyes.

"Who, uh, who told you?" Dean cleared his throat.

Castiel's head thudded against the tree bark, wing pulling tighter around Dean. "Lucifer did. He's… Dean, he's scary, and not in a nightmare story kind of way. And he really believes the myth. He went so far as to say that Michael _wouldn't_ tell me about the curse so he could take your resources and leave while the kingdom goes up in flames."

There was another long pause from Dean. Then, "Do you believe him?"

Castiel rubbed his eyes. "I don't know. Do you have any books or family histories or journals that would talk about things like that?"

Dean's brow furrowed. "Probably. What was that curse's expiration date?"

"It was cast almost one hundred years ago, so it's supposedly soon."

Dean thought for a moment. "I'm sure Sam can dig up something. We have family personal records out the ass back home." Dean seemed sure now. "Yeah, we can fix this. Curse or not."

Castiel smiled. That was what he loved about Dean- there was nothing too broken to fix. And if it was, he'd try anyway.

He pulled Dean down for a kiss, and the Winchester melted into him. Castiel hadn't realized how tense Dean was until he relaxed, cupping Castiel's jaw and losing himself in their connection.

As if it were a reflex, one raven wing pulled Dean closer, wrapping him and Castiel in a little cocoon of soft feathers. Dean's hand traveled down Castiel's side and brushed the soft downey feathers near his skin.

The one touch sent a zing of heat through the angel. Castiel gave a full-body shudder. He lay his hand over Dean's Mark and felt his arousal double back. Dean pulled away, biting back a moan.

"We're kind of near the road," he swallowed. "However much I really want to…" he trailed off, splaying a hand on Castiel's hip. "We should be in my bedroom for it."

Castiel cleared his throat. "Agreed." If only Dean would let them fly there. It would be so much faster. They got up and brushed off, mounting Dean's horse with barely concealed grins.

"By the way," Dean turned his head towards Castiel, "did you ever figure out that handprint thing? It seems to be, uh…" Castiel chuckled. He didn't know how to put the feeling into words either. But there was a name for that connection, and Castiel's smile faded.

"Don't be mad," he said cautiously, "I didn't know what I was doing when it happened."

Dean pulled back on the horse's reigns, stopping him. "Do I need to pull over again?"

"No, no," Castiel smoothed his hands over Dean's waist. "Keep going." Dean clicked his tongue and they moved again.

"It's called a Mark," he begun. "It happened when I gripped you tight while…"

"While you fucked me into the mattress?" Dean finished eloquently, and Castiel grinned like an idiot.

"Yeah, when that happened. It's full name is a Mating Mark."

Dean was quiet for another minute. "So mating like sex, or the other kind?"

"Crowley described it as angel marriage," Castiel said quietly. "I'm really sorry, Dean, I didn't know what I was doing and I didn't mean-"

"Hey, Cas, calm down," Dean commanded. Castiel took a few deep breaths, steeling himself for a reaction. "Relax, sweetheart, I'm not mad."

"You're not?"

"No." Castiel felt like a weight was lifted from his shoulders, and he sagged against Dean's back. "I honestly didn't think I was going to get married before I met you, and you're the only person I love now," Dean continued. "So I guess that's one less decision I have to make."

"Oh thank god," Castiel buried his face in Dean's hair, placing a kiss on his neck.

"Y'know, back when you were human, I was actually going to propose to you."

Castiel's eyes flew open. "What?" he squeaked.

Dean chuckled and laid a hand over one of Castiel's. "Yeah. I told Jo when she came to the kingdom. She sucks at keeping secrets, and I was just hoping she wouldn't let it slip."

Castiel laughed out loud. That weird conversation with her all made sense now.

 _Jo grinned widely. "He said some really mushy, un-manly things, for one. But the bottom line is that he's head-over-heels for you. He's even going-" She snapped her mouth shut, eyes going wide._

 _"_ _What?" Castiel felt a little bit of panic seize in his chest. "He's going to what?"_

 _Jo shook her head. "Not my place to say. But don't freak out," she squeezed his hand, probably seeing the crazed look in his eye. "You'll be fine."_

"I think she did almost tell me, but I was clueless." Castiel tightened his hold on Dean. "Do you remember how badly I panicked when she arrived?"

It was Dean's turn to laugh. "You were strung tighter than a bow. Seriously, you looked like you were going to snap at any moment."

"Can you blame me?" Castiel nudged Dean gently. "I thought I'd lost you. I had competition."

"You never had competition, Cas," Dean craned his neck to kiss him once, gently. "And you never will."

Castiel didn't even try to keep the stupid grin off his face. They spent the remainder of the ride in companionable silence. Castiel nuzzled into Dean's thick winter coat, and Dean traced patterns on Castiel's hand. For one tiny moment, Castiel wasn't worried.

As they approached the castle, both men noticed there was something different right away. There were extra guards, and… were those tents put up to the side of the wall?

"What the hell?" Dean asked, urging his horse into a gallop.

"Your Majesty!" one of the guards called, opening the gate. "Good news! We have reinforcements!"

"Reinforcements?" Dean's brow furrowed as he and Castiel dismounted. He handed the reigns to a stable boy and strode towards the castle doors, Castiel following close behind.

The door swung open, and there, talking to several more guards, was a man. He was near Castiel's height with a burly build and a trimmed blonde beard around his jaw. When he turned to the open door, he smiled easily. His eyes were blue and his face was kind, but Castiel was immediately wary.

He glanced at Dean, whose mouth was hanging open. Dean felt kind of weird through the Mark, like stale affection and confusion. Then he said a word that sent Castiel's heart into his stomach.

"Benny?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

No. This couldn't be happening. It must be a different Benny, not Duke Benny Lafitte from the Southern Kingdom. Not the only ex that Castiel's ever heard about.

"Dean," the man said with a fond smile. His voice was warm and perfectly coated in that southern charm. "There you are."

The king grinned and strode forward. "It's been so long, man! What are you doing this far north?"

Castiel dropped behind Dean but kept his eyes on Benny. A shred of him ignored the 'north' comment and still thought that this could be a different Benny. Hoped it could be.

"Comin' to save you ass, of course." The two embraced, a sort of 'manly hug', and Castiel twitched at the physical contact between them. "Brought about a thousand soldiers to help out."

"You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that," Dean looked relieved, and for a second, Castiel felt a little bad about the force of his possessiveness.

For just a second, when Dean's eyes were closed, Benny's swept up and down Dean's form, appreciation clear in his eyes. Castiel no longer felt bad. He felt his wings start to expand up and out and fought to get control of them. Crowley explained that to be a defense mechanism; he'd look bigger and scarier, like a predator, and frighten away potential threats. Like this one.

He managed to keep his wings from flaring out and destroying anything, but Benny still caught sight of the raised appendages. His eyes widened, and Castiel wanted to smirk a little.

"Uh, hey there," Benny looked at Castiel with no little amount of apprehension in his eyes.

"Oh yeah," Dean smiled like nothing was wrong, like he didn't see how Benny looked at him. "Cas, this is Benny. Benny, this is Castiel, my-"

"Partner," Castiel finished for him. And because maybe he was a little too on edge to be one hundred percent rational at the moment, he chose to give Benny an angel's greeting. His head tilted just slightly, and he let his wings expand gracefully.

With a great deal of satisfaction, Benny took a step back. "Oh," he said. "Well, uh, it's nice to meet you, Castiel." He glanced at Dean with a raised eyebrow, and Dean apparently knew what that meant.

"I'll explain everything to you at dinner," Dean promised. "You settled in?"

Castiel once again tuned most of the pleasantries out, opting instead to stand very close to Dean and appear aloof. After maybe another five minutes, Dean said his goodbyes to Benny, promising to see him at dinner. Castiel just stared as the Duke took his leave.

Then Dean's eyes were on him. "Benny's not a threat, Cas." Castiel opened his mouth to retort, but Dean cut him off. "Don't tell me you weren't thinking that, I can feel your possessiveness."

Castiel opened and closed his mouth. "I was thinking that," he said quietly. "He was once your lover, do you not remember that?"

Dean's frown smoothed out and he put a hand on Castiel's waist. "He was a long time ago. He's just a friend now. Like I said, you have no competition." The Winchester tilted Castiel's head and kissed him.

Castiel relaxed and deepened the kiss, folding his wings tightly to his back. Dean really believed that Benny wasn't competition, Castiel could feel it.

"You trust me right?" Dean asked gently.

"Of course," Castiel responded automatically.

He trusted Dean. It was Benny he didn't trust.

o o o

With a promise to see him at dinner, Dean left to attend a meeting about some recent rebel attacks. Benny was somewhere, Castiel didn't really care where. The Grand Council meeting wasn't until the next day. That left him with absolutely nothing to do.

Castiel flew around the castle grounds for a while, startling some servants so hard that they dropped the bags of oats they were carrying. He knew the grounds well, though, and that soon became tedious.

He went to bother Gabe, and thankfully, the shorter man was just as eager to wander for a little bit, as Sam was in the meeting with Dean.

The two strolled through the secret passages, thankfully empty at the time. "You were here when the Duke of the Southern Kingdom was with Dean…" Castiel begun.

Gabe munched on a stolen sweet roll. "I was."

"What's he like? Honestly." Castiel wasn't really sure he wanted to know, but he needed to know.

Gabe sighed. "He's really nice. A genuinely good guy."

Well dammit. It would be nice if he was a complete douchebag. That would validate Castiel's hatred of the man. He grit his teeth and asked for the whole story.

"It was almost three years ago, I think, right around the time that he and Princess Jo called off their engagement. He was passing through and stayed for dinner or something, and then he just… stayed. Lasted seven or eight months, then that war with the barbarians broke out down south and the duke had to go."

Castiel slouched against the dusty wall. "Did they love each other?"

Gabe gave Castiel a long look, one that the angel couldn't decipher. He trusted Gabe, he knew that he would tell him the truth.

"Yeah," he said after a minute. "I think they did. But when the duke left, Dean was fine. There wasn't any mourning period or anything. He got over the situation relatively quickly." Gabe put his hand on Castiel's shoulder. "Dean loved him, but he was never _in love_ with him. I can tell the difference."

"How?" Castiel mumbled. He wasn't feeling much better about the whole situation.

Gabe leaned back against the opposite wall. "When I was seventeen, before I really met Sam, there was a guy that worked in the stables. Bartholomew. I loved him, I really did but…" he smiled wistfully, "then I met Sam. And no matter how much I loved Bartholomew, I was head-over-heels, goo goo eyes _in love_ with Sam. And that was stronger than anything I felt for anyone before."

Castiel couldn't help but smile. Gabe looked so content, just thinking about his love for Sam. It looked so easy for them. Castiel felt a little pang in his chest. He wanted it to be easy for him and Dean.

"How did you two actually meet anyway?" he asked, trying to derail that train of thought.

Gabe chuckled, sliding to sit on the ground. "Well, you know how Sam's kind of a health nut?" Castiel nodded, sitting with him. "And I'm the exact opposite. You'd expect me to pick the lock to Charlie's pantry, but you wouldn't expect me to find Sam in there with a tub of cocoa powder in his hands."

Castiel grinned. "That really happened?"

"Yeah. I walked right on in and we just stared at each other. I forgot to bow and everything, he's just so damn hot. I was frozen. And then he said, 'I'll make you hot chocolate if you don't tell anyone about this.' After that, we'd sneak down every night to have hot chocolate together and talk. And after two months of that, I kissed him and he said, 'Finally.'"

"That's adorable," Castiel said, and Gabe laughed.

"He complained about gaining four pounds solely from hot chocolate consumption, because apparently he used to only drink it once a week." Gabe shook his head fondly. "The sap."

"I wish it was that easy for us," Castiel mumbled his thoughts.

"Hey," Gabe leaned forward. "My point is, I can tell the difference between _love_ and _in love_ , and trust me when I say, Dean was not in love with the duke. He is, however, in love with you. I mean, you changed species and he barely batted an eye."

Castiel smiled. "I guess you're right. I just," he frowned, "I don't trust the guy. Dean might not have been in love with him, but Benny could have easily been in love with Dean. He's… Dean."

Gabe grinned mischievously. "Just mark your territory a little. Be polite and professional and shit, but let him know that the king's ass is _yours_."

Castiel laughed. Trust Gabe to always make him feel better. "Now I just have to get through dinner with them," Castiel didn't bother suppressing an eye roll. "Wish me luck."

o o o

Dinner was even more awkward than Castiel anticipated. They sat at the head table together, he on Dean's left and Benny on Dean's right. Sam must have sensed the tension and had fled to the other end of the table, engaging the councilman Victor Henricksen, head of military relations, in conversation.

After some pleasantries, Castiel found that Benny really was a nice guy, to his annoyance. He and Dean reminisced about the funny things that happened during their time together. Castiel could tell that Dean was trying to stay away from the really touchy subjects, but Benny was clueless.

"So Dean," Benny began after about thirty minutes of eating, "I brought you a bunch of men to help out, but I ain't got a clue what they're helping with."

Dean scratched the back of his head. "Yeah. You deserve an explanation." Dean explained how, when Benny left, the kingdom was doing okay and the population had grown with the newest generation. "Then we had the First Rebellion," Dean said, face serious. "The rebels used angel magic, which we now know is actually real, and we almost lost, but they withdrew completely and we ended up winning. With a price."

"Your parents," Benny murmured. "I'm so sorry, Dean."

The king nodded. "That day I got a prophecy about a Second Rebellion, and it turned out that the key to understanding it was Cas." Dean looked over to the angel and smiled affectionately. "Want to tell him?"

Castiel straightened up. "I was human for most of my life," he began. "I came to work at the castle, and through a series of events, I found my Grace. It's the life force of an angel, basically. Now, we've contacted the angel population living near the kingdom and are negotiating an alliance to stop the Second Rebellion." Benny didn't have to know about the cursed land or the lack of actual communication as of yet. He didn't need to know that Castiel nearly sacrificed his life for Dean, or that Dean went against his own law by doing magic and stealing Castiel away from the jail cell. He didn't need to know how Castiel and Dean fell in love, however hard he wanted to rub it in his face.

"You sure an alliance is the best plan?" Benny asked cautiously. "It sounds logical, but I mean, they're a different species altogether. No offense," he glanced at Castiel. "I'm only familiar with the legends."

Castiel gritted his teeth but refrained from saying anything rude. Polite and professional, that's what Gabe said. But yeah, he was going to mark his territory. "Dean and I thought it would be best," Castiel smiled sweetly. "If we can find love, then surely our species can work side by side peacefully."

Benny nodded, and a blanket of silence descended on the three.

"Right, so," Dean redirected the conversation. "At the same time as that, the rebels are actually beginning to match my army in strength. You showed up at the perfect time."

Benny grinned at him. "You'd 'a done the same for me."

"'Course I would," Dean nodded.

Castiel descended into another bout of silence, stabbing a grape aggressively with his fork.

They switched off of subjects that Castiel could relate to, but Dean tried a few times to include the angel in conversation, which he was grateful for. Dean probably sensed Castiel's tension, because part way through a conversation about one of the hunts he and Benny went on back in the day, he slid his hand over Castiel's under the table.

A bit of warmth from Dean radiated in Castiel's chest, and however wary he was, he could feel that Dean loved him.

o o o

Dean and Castiel were quiet as they walked back to Dean's quarters, Jody Mills trailing discreetly behind. Dean's fingers were warm in his, and for a moment, Castiel could pretend that they were just two ordinary men retiring for the night.

Dean graciously didn't mention anything about the dinner's conversation. Castiel didn't want to talk about any of that. He wanted to be alone with Dean for the first time in a week. A very stressful week.

Jody closed the doors behind them quietly, and Dean's lips were immediately on Castiel's. They were soft and wine-sweet, and Castiel could only wrap his wings around Dean and melt into him.

Dean's fingers tangled in Castiel's hair and he pulled back a bit. "I love you," Dean said quietly.

"I love you as well," Castiel replied. He kissed Dean again and pushed him gently towards his bedroom. With his newfound strength and the help of his wings, Castiel lifted Dean onto his bed and settled between his legs. "Let me show you how much."

Castiel kept it slow. He wanted this to last. He wanted Dean to feel him the next day whenever he moved.

The buckles on the front of Dean's tunic popped open one by one, and Dean traced the buttons on Castiel's wing-friendly shirt. "I like this," he murmured. "I like seeing your wings."

Castiel flared them high over his head, watching as Dean's eyes widened with awe. Slowly, he reached up and drew a few fingers through the midnight feathers, earning a full body shudder from his angel. "Soft." Dean reached up to claim Castiel's lips again, slipping the buttons on his shirt through the carefully crafted holes.

"Feels good," Castiel said against Dean's lips. After a moment there was finally skin contact, and Castiel sighed contently.

Dean petted through Castiel's feathers, and the angel was barely aware that he was grinding into him. The Winchester traced the seam of his wings and pressed gently against the oil gland.

Lightening shot through his wings, down his spine, and directly to his incredibly hard length. He moaned louder than necessary and bit down on Dean's pulse point.

"Ah, pants off sweetheart," Dean breathed, sliding his clean hand to palm Castiel's ass.

The angel reared up and waved his hand vaguely towards the wall, effectively sound-proofing the room. He stood on top of the bed and removed both his pants and briefs with one swoop, kicking them somewhere off the bed to be found in the morning.

Dean lay back on the bed and brought his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean of Castiel's oil. Immediately, Castiel felt a satisfied rumble burst from his throat. Dean would smell like him again. That was right.

He tugged Dean's pants off to discover that he wore no underwear, and the king smiled mischievously. "I was excited for you to come home today," he explained.

"I'm glad to be back." Castiel dropped back to the bed, gasping at the contact of Dean's heated skin.

Both lips and hips slotted together again, and Dean bucked against him. "Ugh, Cas please," he groaned.

"As you wish," Castiel purred, kissing his way down Dean's neck. He took his sweet time mapping out his skin again, finding his favorite freckle constellations and sensitive spots. Dean arched upwards when Castiel flicked his tongue over a pebbled nipple.

He licked over it, thumb grazing over the other. He switched, giving both sides equal attention. Dean began to squirm, searching for more friction.

Castiel nibbled down Dean's abdominals and pressed his fingers into the v of his hipbones, pushing him back against the bed. The Winchester whimpered, and Castiel smiled against his skin.

Teasingly, the angel nuzzled around Dean's shaft, giving him no real friction. He added a few kitten licks to the base, but pulled back quickly.

"Cas," Dean whined at the lack of contact.

The angel reached back to his already-leaking oil glands and coated his fingers. Dean inhaled deeply, and Castiel could almost feel his pupils dilate. A slick finger brushed gently over Dean's furled hole, and the man gasped.

"Yes, Cas, do it," he breathed, throwing his head back.

Castiel forced himself to go slowly, rubbing circled around Dean's skin, soaking in his moans and whimpers. His lips found Dean's hips and he licked at them, taking a hipbone to the face when just the tip of his finger breached Dean's entrance.

Dean pleaded for more, but Castiel went slowly, kissing and nipping and licking everywhere but Dean's rock-hard member.

Fingers found the tops of Castiel's wings and Dean pulled at the feathers, earning a sharper thrust from Castiel in return. It hit the magical spot inside Dean and he cried out, grinding down onto Castiel's fingers.

That seemed to spur him on, reaching back to gather more oil before adding another finger. He coated his other hand and smeared the translucent substance over Dean's length, touch tormentingly light.

He wasn't aware that Dean was so close to the edge, but suddenly his whole body was clamping up and he was coming, Castiel staring transfixed between his twitching member and his beautiful face.

There was a moment of silence, Dean trying to catch his breath while Castiel's fingers were still inside him.

"Willing to go one more round?" the angel asked.

Dean looked up to see Castiel's red length heavy with desire. "Yeah," he murmured, spreading his legs a little wider. "Need you."

Castiel swept a finger over Dean's prostate again, and the man arched up with a moan, almost oversensitive. Castiel gave him a questioning look, but Dean nodded vigorously.

That was enough for the angel. He slicked himself up, relishing the first feel of contact on his neglected member, but pulled away. He knew better things were coming.

"Pillows," he said quickly, and Dean tossed him two of the fluffy pillows above his head. Castiel pushed Dean up by his knees and fit the pillows under him, forcing his hips high into the air before he let his legs drop.

Dean was at an angle, entrance high enough that Castiel could kneel upright on the bed to be level with him. He smoothed his hands over Dean's hips before lining himself up and pushing slowly into Dean.

"Deeean," he growled. Even after being carefully worked open _and_ relaxed after an orgasm, Dean was so very tight. His hands slid down over Dean's stomach, mapping out the skin as he waited for Dean to adjust.

Dean was panting in hard, short breaths. This angle was perfect. With the first stroke, Castiel had come to rest on his prostate and stayed there, pressing firmly against the sensitive spot. "Move," Dean choked.

Castiel complied, pulling out almost all the way before thrusting firmly back in. Dean cried out, unable to move his hips.

The angel kept his thrusts slow but strong, striking into Dean perfectly every time. The king was gripping his headboard, knuckles white against the lightening sensations shooting through his body.

Castiel kept one hand anchored on Dean's hip, using the hold to push deep into him every time. The other found his oil glands again. He wanted Dean to smell like him. He needed the scent to permeate his being after countless showers. Not many others would smell it once it was washed off, but Castiel would know. Dean was his, and no one else's.

The translucent liquid was smeared across his thighs and stomach, Castiel's sticky hand trailing up to pinch at Dean's nipples. "Fuck!" Dean cried, aching for another release.

He pulled Castiel's hand to his mouth and licked his oil off, sucking three fingers into his mouth and swallowing greedily.

That sent Castiel over the edge, his back bowing and wings expanding with the force of his orgasm. The taste of Castiel's oil and the heat of liquid inside him pushed Dean with him again, and the two trembled with pleasure.

After a moment, Dean released Castiel's fingers and the angel pulled out of him gently. He collapsed onto the mattress and shoved at the pillows under Dean's hips so he could do the same.

"Wow," the Winchester said after a moment.

"Damn right," Castiel replied. They both chuckled, too sated to remember anything but the intense feeling.

Castiel slid carefully off the bed. Dean made a sound of protest, but didn't move. Probably couldn't move. There was a clean washcloth in Dean's bathroom, and Castiel wet it before returning to clean Dean off. His scent still permeated him even after he was clean, and Castiel smiled.

"Love you," Dean murmured once Castiel pulled the comforters around both of them.

"I love you too," Castiel mumbled into Dean's neck, kissing him gently.

The assurance was good. The streak of possessiveness that appeared the same time Benny had was weird for Castiel, but as long as Dean loved him, he could keep it under control. He could keep himself under control.

 **A/N:** Don't forget to review! (:


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

 _"_ _I don't understand what you find so fascinating about them," Abbadon inspected her nails as Thomas combed through the forest line with his eyes. "I could answer all of your questions and more."_

 _"_ _You're not an angel, Abbadon," Thomas didn't move his stare from the trees. He didn't know exactly what she was. At least, he didn't have a confirmation. He knew, but he didn't want to know._

 _Abbadon stepped in front of him, obscuring his sight of the forest. "You're the one who summoned me," she reminded him. Her stare was hard for a moment, but then it softened. "Tom, look at me."_

 _Thomas finally tore his gaze from the tree line. He inspected the… creature. She was looking at him like that again, like he was a blessing to her. She sat in front of him, propping herself up on her hands._

 _"_ _Your scientific interest is impressive, it really is," she said, "but I love hearing your stories." Thomas smiled. He was an excellent storyteller. "Tell me one of those."_

 _The man sighed. His focus was torn between the species he craved to observe and the woman in front of him, her attention never wavering. He'd never had someone give him that before._

 _"_ _In a faraway land," he began, "there lived a prophet whose words turned objects to gold…"_

 _Abbadon listened, engrossed in his words. She scooted closer as Thomas spoke, laying a hand over his on the ground. She loved him, or at least wanted to possess him. He knew that, but he couldn't bring himself to order her away. She provided him with so much knowledge, and if he was being honest with himself, he was afraid._

 _With all his heart, he wanted an angel. He tried to call one, and instead, Abbadon came. He had hopes that she would become bored with him and leave, but as he looked into her sharp, dark eyes, he saw the fire of obsession, and his hopes dwindled._

 _The scene changed. Dean was suddenly aware of himself; he had a body, and it was standing in his throne room. Everything was slightly different though, different decorations, a different texture on the stone walls._

 _Thomas and Abbadon were standing on the steps below the throne. "Hello?" Dean called, but they couldn't hear him._

 _"_ _You love me, Thomas," Abbadon had a fistful of his shirt in her grasp. "I know you do! I know it!"_

 _"_ _I don't, Abbadon," he said nervously._

 _"_ _You do. I can see into your soul. Tom," her eyes widened a little. "Tell me you love me. Tell me right now, and we can be together. I'll forget this little outburst, and-"_

 _"_ _No!" Thomas had enough. "I do not love you! I never did, and I never will. I never meant to summon you, and we will never be together." He was breathing hard, eyes blazing._

 _Dean noticed that he had the same eyes and brow that Sam had, but for the color. His eyes were a bright forest green._

 _Abbadon suddenly lashed out, and Thomas flew backwards into the wall, a thin line of blood trickling from his temple. The woman stepped over him._

 _"_ _Are you going to kill me?" Thomas asked._

 _"_ _No," Abbadon smiled, eyes turning a deep, murky black. "I'm going to do something much worse."_

 _Dean stepped forward, but the floor erupted into flames. Thomas and Abbadon didn't seem to notice. Their forms had dissolved in front of Dean's eyes. The castle walls began to blur as the fire came closer._

 _Dean looked for an exit, but there was nothing around him, just black and the crackle of deadly fire. It licked up one of his legs, and he stumbled back with a pained cry. He fell, and the fire jumped to his arms. It hurt so much more than Dean thought fire could. It felt almost cold, his body turning to liquid pain as the flames crawled up his body._

 _He was burning alive, and the pain wouldn't stop. His nerves wouldn't give up, and he wasn't passing out. He kept feeling and feeling until the flames licked up his face, and he heard the manic laughter of the black-eyed woman._

Dean jack-knifed out of bed with a barely muffled shout. He struggled against the comforter and shoved it off of him, stumbling to the floor.

"Dean?" Castiel asked sleepily. "What's wrong?"

The Winchester ran his hands over his skin, needing to check for himself that his flesh was intact and the pain was in his head.

"Dream," he croaked. "Bad dream."

With a thump, Castiel staggered out of bed and plopped next to Dean on the floor. "'S okay," he mumbled, pulling the king close and wrapping a soft wing around them. "'S over, I got you."

Dean let his forehead rest against his angel's collarbone and forced his heart rate down. That dream was more vivid than the last one. Thomas, why were his dreams connected to Thomas? The name sounded familiar, but it was also a pretty common name. They had been in Dean's throne room, and… Thomas had been watching angels.

He needed to go look through his family records.

Castiel helped him up, concern breaking through his bone-tiredness. He wanted to ask Dean what the dream had been about, but the look in his eye said that he should give him some time before revisiting those memories.

"Come back to bed," Castiel murmured. "The sun's not up yet."

Dean scrubbed his hands down his face and stepped away from Castiel. "I need to shower," he mumbled. "Go back to sleep."

With a frown, Castiel watched Dean's naked form retreat into his bathroom and close the door. A weird sense of loneliness went through him, and he wrapped his arms around himself for warmth.

Something was wrong with Dean. He would expect the king to confide in him, to wrap Castiel in his arms and let him share the burden, but now there was a closed door between them.

Castiel crawled back into the bed and folded his wings around himself. Maybe Dean would talk to him soon. Hopefully.

o o o

The morning went poorly.

Castiel wasn't hungry for breakfast, no matter what Charlie tried to shove down his throat. "Castiel, you're speaking with the Grand Council today. For the love of god, have a cinnamon roll!"

He mumbled a "No thank you," downed the rest of his coffee, and swept out of the kitchens, a pit of nerves settled low in his stomach.

He couldn't find Gabe, and he couldn't find Dean. He couldn't even find Sam. Castiel recognized a few of the servants running around, but he didn't know them well enough to go talk to them.

Instead of looking harder, Castiel flew up to the highest point of the castle and sat there, letting the cool breeze ruffle his feathers. If he was being honest with himself, he wanted to go back to the forest, maybe see Ava and Bela. He'd even settle for Gadreel or Inias. Or Crowley.

That was a depressing thought. Maybe he'd go to Bobby's for a little bit. He could translate some more for the old man, share stories and read his old lore books. It was strange how Castiel related to an old hermit better than anyone else.

But he couldn't do that. He wouldn't cut his time with Dean short. He wouldn't allow Benny more time unsupervised to woo Dean, or whatever the fuck he was planning.

After putting it off as long as he could, Castiel went back into the castle towards the biggest conference room. The Grand Council was going to hear about the angels soon, and Castiel breathed deeply to stave off his nerves.

He'd thought a bit about just how much he was going to tell the council. He obviously wouldn't tell them about the curse, nor would he tell them that Lucifer was positively excited about watching the land burn.

"Hey, Cas," a familiar voice said behind him. Castiel turned to find Dean, smiling. He put his hand on the angel's waist and gave him a chaste kiss. "You ready?"

"As I'll ever be." Castiel leaned into his touch.

"It'll be good," Dean squeezed his hand.

Castiel was quiet as the council members filed in and took their seats, Dean at the head of the table and Castiel across the huge span of wood.

 _Here goes nothing._

"Council members," Castiel addressed them. "I've gone to speak with the Commanders of the angels, and they, for the most part, seem open to the idea of an alliance."

Everyone was silent. "I believe we should focus on the angel Michael," Castiel continued. "We should include Lucifer so as to not cause animosity, but Michael is the one that seems more accepting of humans as allies."

"Will either one of them become violent?" one councilman asked.

Probably. "If we show them no violence, then I have no reason to believe that they will show us any." Yeah, diplomatic. Good. "Michael wishes to see what exactly we want in an alliance. A proposed treaty, with written laws allying our kingdoms. One of his… councilmen is doing the same."

Everyone was silent for a moment, staring at Castiel. "I suggest we come up with some," Dean said, coming to the rescue. "Let's first review our contracts with the House of Roads and the Southern Kingdom."

Castiel sat down as the rest of the council members began to propose laws. Castiel often had to intervene. He was quickly realizing how little the council member knew about anything that wasn't their own form of government.

They stated a borderline of the Kingdom of Winchester, going as far as the forest tree line. They came up with migration laws, describing the lenient measures in which angels could move to their kingdom and obtain citizenship, though Castiel told them that probably wouldn't ever happen.

They proposed a military alliance, in which in the event of an attack against the Garrison, the Kingdom of Winchester would assist them, and vice versa. Neither kingdom would attack the land, resources, or people of the other.

It continued along those lines and occasionally went off on tangents. Castiel explained what angels would act like when introducing themselves, the bow and whatnot. He explained carcanets, wing etiquette, and the typical dress.

The meeting lasted six hours, and Castiel had used his brain more in that time than he had his whole life. At the end, he was sort of proud of the contract. It was clear, but up for evaluation by the commanders. It allied the kingdoms without linking them too much. It was good, and Castiel was exhausted.

Dean commanded that the contract be written out cleanly and copied three times. Two would be packaged, and sealed with the official Winchester seal for delivery to the commanders.

Castiel stumbled out of the conference room, eyes drooping and stomach rumbling. Dean filed out with everyone else, and took in his appearance. "You look like you could use a sandwich and a nap."

Castiel gave him a tired smile. "That sounds wonderful."

"I'll get Charlie to send something to my room," Dean carded his fingers through Castiel's hair. "You can nap there."

"Want to join me?" Castiel asked, brushing a wing over Dean's arm.

Dean smiled, but shook his head. "I'm going to go look through all my dad's old stuff to see if I can find anything about…" he looked around. "You know."

The curse. Right. Castiel nodded. "You can come down and look with me when you wake up," Dean paused, eyes sweeping down Castiel's drooping form. He tilted his chin up. "That is, unless you need me to come back with you."

 _Yes, I need you._ "No, I'm okay." He gave Dean his best smile. "You go look for stuff, I'll be down later."

"The library," Dean nodded.

"Got it." Castiel smiled, and Dean kissed him. It was quick, but soft. "See you soon."

Castiel smiled as Dean walked off, then slumped against the wall. He was just feeling needy because he was tired. It's not like Dean was going to ask Benny to help; they'd agreed that they wouldn't tell anyone, save Sam and Gabe, about this curse business.

He took Dean's advice and went straight to his room, wolfing down the large sandwich and settling comfortably in Dean's sheets, which smelled like him. His wings stretched out across the room and relaxed.

He imagined getting his own little treehouse like Crowley's and taking Dean there. He imagined him arguing with Bela and talking to Ava about music. Castiel would keep the Zetaneh away from Dean and dance with him and show him the other side of himself. It sounded so nice. Castiel didn't know if it would ever happen, but he fell asleep to the image of Dean's bare torso next to his in a tree, kissing like the children's rhyme.

o o o

When he woke, Castiel was a little disoriented. He was in Dean's bed, but where was Dean? He blinked several times before he remembered the council meeting and how tired he'd been. Though a bit groggy, he wasn't tired anymore. He'd go join Dean in the castle library.

The angel straightened himself up and patted his wild hair down as best as he could before heading towards the east wing. He'd visited it countless times when he was still human, reading this and that. He'd never climbed up the rolling ladder, though. If he was going to be caught, he wasn't going to fall on his ass at the same time.

Castiel was crossing a landing open to the floor below when he heard it- the unmistakable sound of Dean's laughter. His brow furrowed. Dean was supposed to be in the library.

Quietly, Castiel crept along the open walkway until he saw Dean and Benny sitting on the wide ledge next to a huge window.

"Seriously?" Dean said, grinning.

"Swear to god," Benny put a hand over his heart. "Thought I was gonna die, but I managed to miss the rocks. Turns out mermaids don't exist. It was just a seal." Dean laughed again, the sound making something clench painfully in Castiel's heart.

A part of Castiel wanted to unfurl his wings and drop down to make his presence known, but he stopped himself. He trusted Dean, he told him he did. He needed to let Dean talk to whoever he chose to. He couldn't control the king, and he didn't want to. However much it bothered him, he needed to give Dean the space he needed.

With a quiet sigh, Castiel headed to the library to get a head start on the research.

o o o

It had been Sam's idea to search their father's storage room full of old crap, and of course, Gabe accompanied him. The search parameters were pretty easy to understand: find anything that looked old and important. The problem was, everything in the storage room looked old and important.

"I went through all this stuff after Dad died," Sam muttered, pushing aside another trunk of baby clothes. "If there were anything about a curse in here, I'd have found it already."

Gabe was leaning against the closed door, watching his boyfriend with a little smile on his face. "Did you check that box over there?"

Sam gave him a mild bitchface. "Only eight times."

Gabe shrugged. "Maybe ninth time's the charm."

Sam huffed and bent to rifle through the old boxes of silver, giving Gabe a perfect view of Sam's ass. The shorter man looked him up and down. Even after almost three and a half years, Sam still turned him on quicker than a match in a coal mine.

"Nothing," Sam rose and squinted at the other boxes.

"And in that one?" Gabe motioned to an armoire full of old scrolls. "Isn't that all latin? Maybe some of that can be decoded."

"I read latin, Gabe." Even so, Sam squatted to glance at the lower shelves, exposing a strip of his golden skin. Gabe popped a button at the collar of his shirt, feeling warm. "I've already read all of these." Sam's brow furrowed as his eyes swept the room again. "Maybe-"

"Check in that trunk," Gabe commanded, creeping up behind the prince.

Sam acquiesced, though he knew that the trunk was full of old family paintings. He knelt and rifled through the canvases, stopping only when Gabe's shadow obscured his view.

The Winchester grinned up at his boyfriend, head pretty much level with his crotch.

"Sex break?" Gabe asked with a child-like smile on his face.

On one hand, Sam really wanted to find information about the curse that was supposedly going to destroy his land in maybe weeks. On the other hand, he rarely denied Gabe anything.

"Never satisfied, are you?" he teased, pulling Gabe's hips towards his face. He let out a manic laugh when Sam nipped at his hipbone through his not-thick-enough-for-winter pants and pushed at his head.

"Stop! You know I'm ticklish!"

With a lovely display of strength, Sam grabbed Gabe's ass and lifted him like he was a feather as he stood. Gabe loved being carried. He twined his fingers through Sam's brown locks and crashed their lips together.

Gabe's legs tightened around Sam's torso. "Love it when you're tall," he mumbled against the Winchester's lips.

"I'm always tall."

"Exactly." Sam grinned widely at Gabe and pushed him back against the wall. With Sam's height, Gabe was tall enough to touch the lanterns lining the tall room. He wasn't really paying attention to that though- there were other pressing matters, the one pressed firmly to his groin.

Gabe's hands flew out to brace himself on the wall and he knocked his hand into one of the lanterns. "Shit," he cursed.

It should've crashed to the floor, but instead, the metal casing depressed into the wall.

"Shit!" he cried as the wall disappeared behind him.

"Oh my god," Sam lunged forward and caught him before he could crash into the very dusty, very new expanse of floor behind him. Gabe clutched onto Sam's neck and they both stared into the secret room they'd just stumbled upon.

Gabe swallowed thickly. "Have you looked in here yet?"

Sam shook his head with wide eyes. He set the shorter man down and snatched a lit lantern off the wall, sweeping it out to illuminate the new space.

With a surprised laugh, Sam stepped forward. It was small, but covered floor-to-ceiling with bookshelves and cases too caked with dust to see into. "It's like we've died and gone to _your_ heaven," Gabe murmured.

Sam approached one of the cases and rubbed the god knows how many years old grime off the glass. "Holy fuck," he breathed.

Gabe ran over. Sam rarely cursed, but as he looked into the case, Gabe understood why he did.

In it was a large, snowy white angel wing.

 **A/N:** Oooh! Leave a review!


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** In this chapter: a terrible discovery is made.

 **Chapter Six**

Castiel was sitting on the floor with a book detailing the Winchester family tree for the last several hundred years when Dean came in.

"Oh, you're here already," Dean blinked and smiled. "Sorry, I was tied up with something. Found anything?"

"Potentially," Castiel said nonchalantly. And because he couldn't help himself, "How's Benny doing?"

Dean was quiet, and Castiel turned a page casually. "Were you spying on us?" Dean said in his his calm-angry voice.

"No," Castiel said truthfully. "Just on my way to the library." He continued to stare at the book, not reading the words anymore. "I didn't stick around to listen, don't worry."

The angel knew that Dean was debating whether or not to drop the subject or keep poking at it. After a second, he sighed and sat on the floor next to Castiel. "What did you potentially find?"

Castiel pushed an old records book across the floor to him. "That's the kingdom economic inventory for the past two hundred years. Exactly one hundred ago is when the numbers took a downturn." He pointed to the red ink. "It's mostly crop and cattle production."

Dean examined the downward trend. "It happened so suddenly," Dean mused. "Nothing to indicate a reason for it to happen."

Castiel looked up at Dean for the first time and saw concern in his eyes. "Maybe it was a different reason."

Dean put down the book and gestured to the one Castiel was holding. "Family tree?"

"Yep," Castiel held it up. "I was looking for the king that was in power exactly one hundred years ago. It was your great-great-grandfather, Thomas Winchester. He was coronated when he was twenty-one, he-"

"That's him," Dean interrupted. "I-I've been having dreams about him."

Castiel's brow furrowed. Dean never told him about that. "Dreams?"

"Dean!" Sam called, banging loudly into the library, Gabe hot on his heels.

"Sam, what's wrong?" Dean said, alarm in his voice. Gabe looked at Castiel with wide eyes.

"There's something you need to see," Sam swallowed thickly. "Both of you."

o o o

Castiel stood in front of the grimy case, nausea nearly overcoming him. The angel wing was a dirty white, sad and wilted in the case. A cloth covered the place where it was supposed to connect to a body. Even if it was cut off rather than ripped, a wing was directly connected to the angel's body. There would be bits of tendons, shoulder blade, back muscle…

Another wave of nausea rolled through Castiel, and he turned away.

Gabe gripped his hand tightly, and Castiel clung to him. "What else is in here?" he tried to make his voice as even as possible.

"Enochian," Sam answered. "Lots of Enochian."

"I found Thomas' journals," Dean grunted, blowing dust off a soft leather book.

Sam's brows furrowed. "Thomas?"

"Our great-great-grandfather," Dean said, flipping open the cover. "From exactly one hundred years ago."

Sam raised his eyebrows. Dean had explained the story of the curse to him, and he in turn explained it to Gabe. They both knew that Castiel had been given a prophecy, but they didn't know exactly what it said.

Dean sat back against the wall. "Give me a minute," he murmured, turning the brittle pages carefully.

Castiel picked up a book entirely in Enochian. It was a strange sort of Enochian… the equivalent of cursive, maybe? "Anatomy and Composition," he read slowly. He flipped through the pages to find detailed drawings of exactly what he thought- angel anatomy. There were close-ups of wings, comparisons to humans, everything.

"Who's Abbadon?" Gabe called from across the room.

Dean's head snapped up. "Let me see that." He snatched up the sketches and stared at them with wide eyes. "It's her."

"Who, exactly?" Sam asked.

Dean looked up, meeting each of their eyes. "I've, uh, been having these weird dreams."

Castiel scooted closer. These were the dreams that freaked Dean out, the ones that woke him up in a panic. He knew they were. "The ones about Thomas," Castiel said.

Dean nodded. "And Abbadon."

"What are they about?" Gabe asked carefully.

Dean sat down wearily. "I've only had two, but… they're vivid. Really vivid. From what I got, Thomas loved everything about angels and wanted to study them. He tried to call one of them, but," he paused, "he got Abbadon instead. She's not an angel, he must have gotten something wrong." He snatched up the journal he was reading earlier. "It's probably in here."

"Was there anything about a curse in your dreams?" Castiel asked carefully.

Dean looked at him and then quickly down to his lap. "Well, Thomas knew she was in love with him, but he didn't want her. And she threatened him. He asked if she was going to kill him, and she said," Dean took a breath. "She said, 'No, I'm going to do something much worse.'"

"Creepy as fuck," Gabe whispered.

Sam piped up. "If she wasn't an angel, then what was she?"

"I don't know, man," Dean shook his head. "But, for a second, she had black eyes."

Without another word, they started rifling through the books and papers again. Castiel picked up a few more books, sorting them into what looked like it would help versus what looked like purely scientific notes. There were a lot of those- lunar cycles, solar cycles, more anatomy, rituals, spells, descriptions about types of magic… Thomas had been obsessed.

"What's this?" Gabe held up a piece of paper with a detailed wheel. It had English, Latin, and Enochian on it, following the circle, with bits of notes about grammar and phonetics.

"It's a cypher," Castiel's eyes widened. It was way better than the one he gave Bobby. "Keep that out. Use it to read the Enochian book titles."

There was another minute of quiet. "Holy shit," Dean whispered, covering his mouth.

"What?" Castiel knelt next to him. "What is is?"

Dean read from the journal. " _I thought when Abbadon left, that would be the end of it. I thought her threats were hollow, but my dreams have been haunted by her visage. She talks of trials and a curse, and I fear for my family._ "

"It's real," Sam breathed.

Dean flipped a few pages and kept reading. " _I fear I cannot keep going like this. Our wheat fields have taken a sudden downturn, and the river water is poisoning the towns. Abbadon has surely cursed me. Last night, in my dreams, she told me of the unspeakable. If I was ever going to restore my land, I would have to complete a set of three trials, the first involving…_ " Dean took a shaky breath. "Fuck. _The first involving ripping an innocent soul from its vessel._ "

The room was silent, and once again, Castiel felt like he was going to be sick.

"Is there any more?" Gabe whispered.

Dean nodded. " _I don't know if I can do it. I don't even know how. Abbadon said that I have one hundred years to complete the tasks or she will burn my kingdom to the ground and cleanse it with a flood. How can I face my family? How can I burden little Henry with this? My kingdom is doomed, and it is my fault. If I could only…_ " Dean stopped. "That's where it ends. _If I could only_ and then nothing."

Sam took the journal and flipped through the rest of the pages. "Blank."

"So," Castiel hugged his knees. "Fire, and then a flood."

Dean nodded. "Your prophecy."

Gabe looked confused. "What prophecy?"

"I was given a prophecy by Chuck right after I turned, you know," Castiel fluffed up his feathers, then pulled them tightly to his back.

"Well, what is it Cassie?" Gabe scooted to Castiel.

Castiel recited the prophecy, monotone.

" _The blackened blanket 'cross the soil_

 _Thirsts for golden blood_

 _Thrice must naked creatures toil_

 _Lest come the deathly flood."_

Sam rubbed his eyes. "So blackened blanket is the fire, deathly flood is Abbadon's cleansing flood, thrice toiling is the trials."

"It would appear so."

"Thirsts for golden blood?" Dean asked quietly. "Do angels bleed gold?"

Castiel didn't actually know. He's never seen an angel bleed. His own veins were still a light blue color where he could see then on his wrists. But he had to be sure.

He extended a wing out and stiffened the feathers, using the outermost one to cut a fine line in the flesh on his palm below his thumb.

"Cas, no!" Dean reached forward, but Castiel held up a hand.

"It's fine, just a tiny cut," he murmured. "Red blood." A tiny drop of red trickled out, and Castiel wiped it on his pants.

No one said what they were thinking- that maybe golden blood meant royal blood. Winchester blood.

Dean cleared his throat. "So, where do we get an innocent soul?"

Sam's head snapped around to Dean's. "What the fuck?"

"What do you want me to say, Sam?" Dean snapped. "I'm not going to let some ancient bitch destroy our kingdom when we have a surefire way of stopping all this."

"Oh yeah?" Sam stood, angry. "We don't even know what the second or third trials are. We're not going to go kill a civilian if we don't know for sure it'll work!"

"That's not it," Gabe said, staring at the floor. Everyone looked at him, and he gave a half shrug. "No one's innocent, not really. None of us are. We've all done something we're not proud of, or at least thought it." Castiel was quiet. Gabe was more right than he knew.

"I hate to say this," he rubbed his eyes, "but the only people who are truly innocent are… babies."

"So we have to kill a fucking baby?" Dean pulled at his hair.

"Not kill," Castiel said suddenly. "It said you have to r-rip out it's soul," Castiel stuttered.

"Can you really live without a soul?" Sam asked.

"Maybe one of these books has that answer." Castiel became commanding. He had to take the reigns on this research. "Look for something about spells, use the cypher or give it to me. We won't decide if we're doing this right now, but it's best to know, at least."

It was late afternoon when they went into the room, and it was way past sunset when they decided to stop and try again tomorrow. Sam hauled Gabe onto his back as they went into his room, Gabe burying his face into Sam's long hair.

Dean and Castiel didn't pass anyone on the way back to Dean's room. There was a weird sort of tension between them, and Castiel didn't like it. It was all Benny's fault. He just shows up and bam, a wedge is driven between the king and the angel. Benny, with his funny stories and southern accent and… normalcy.

On a deeper level, Castiel knew it was his fault. He was trying to hard not to be jealous and possessive, but… how could be not be? Dean Winchester was his life. He was the only reason that Castiel survived all the shit of the past year, and the only one who truly loved him. He was more important to Castiel than either race, either kingdom, anything.

Benny hadn't yet come on to Dean, not obviously. Maybe Dean was right, maybe he was just being friendly. Castiel still didn't trust him, though. He felt like a threat, competition, even if Dean disagreed. It was a challenge that Castiel would have to overcome by himself. He didn't want to make Dean angry. He didn't want to give Dean another reason why Benny was better than Castiel.

He knew it, but he'd never say it. Benny was way better than Castiel. Better for Dean. But Castiel was selfish, and he'd do anything to keep Dean.

They eventually got to Dean's room and undressed silently, crawling to their respective sides of the bed. Castiel could tell that Dean was still awake, and Dean could probably tell that Castiel was too, but that wall of tension lay between him.

Castiel was bone tired. He hated feeling this way, like every breath was an effort. After another moment, he rolled towards Dean and buried his head in the king's neck. To his relief, Dean held him immediately, stroking his fingers through the raven feathers. Castiel let out a breath and put his arm over Dean's torso.

"I love you," he murmured.

Dean kissed his forehead. "I love you too."

There was still a knot of tension in Castiel's chest, but he felt okay enough to relax into Dean's warmth and fall asleep.

 **A/N:** Reviews are love!


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

It was two more days before they found an answer in Bobby's house.

"The book's called _Dark Magic_ , which is just a ray of sunshine," Bobby grunted. "If they cypher's right, the spell tells you how to put a soul back, but gives instructions on how to take it out after."

Castiel's shoulders drooped as he took the book. Bobby was being surprisingly calm about this, eyeing Dean with a strange expression every so often. Castiel might talk to him about Dean later.

"What if I can't do it?" Dean murmured in Castiel's ear, reading over Bobby's translation. "I mean, you know what went wrong with my magic use before."

Something tickled in the back of Castiel's mind, but he couldn't quite remember it. Something that would help, strengthen a human's ability to do magic. "Bobby?" the angel called. "In one of the first books I translated for you, what was the spell about humans using angel magic?"

Bobby's head stuck out from the doorway to the kitchen. "The Tether? Over there," he pointed to a book wedged under a jar of old coins on the fireplace. Castiel left the other book with Dean and grabbed that one, flipping through it quickly.

There it was, the _Tether_. It looked fairly simple. He glanced at Dean inconspicuously. The man was frowning at the book. Castiel knew that on his right shoulder lay his Mark. He was already bound to Dean one way, would Dean mind another?

"So," Castiel sat down awkwardly next to Dean. "I think, if you're going to do this, you should use my magic."

"The Tether thing?" he asked.

Castiel nodded. "It's pretty straightforward. It involves binding your soul to my Grace, which we kind of already did a little bit…" Dean's hand immediately touched his shoulder, and he nodded.

"Yeah." He glanced down at the book. "You think it'll make magic work for me?"

"I think you should give it a try," Sam said, crouching behind the two. "It can't do much harm, can it?"

"What do you need?" Gabe said, pushing himself off the ground. "I know where Bobby keeps his stuff."

"Just don't screw up my indexing again, ya idjit," the old man called from the kitchen.

Castiel rattled off a few items, but the spell was mostly about connection and words. He scratched out the Enochian phonetics for Dean to read when it was his part, and the two knelt, facing each other, with a single lit candle between them. Sam and Gabe stood awkwardly in the background, too fascinated to leave.

Castiel glanced at the book. "So we each have to pick a point of connection." Dean was staring at him, completely trusting an vulnerable. Castiel felt a little surge of love and covered the Mark on Dean's shoulder with his hand. Dean's breath hitched a little, but he stayed calm. After a second, his hand landed on Castiel's own shoulder, making a little loop with their arms.

"Okay," Castiel breathed deeply. "I go first." He read from the book, chanting the clipped syllables of Enochian easily. It translated sort of like a vow. " _I give you my Grace, willfully and wholly, to protect you and be protected by you,"_ he recited in Enochian. " _I tether myself to you._ "

He could feel his Grace surge within him, a bit of it flowing through Castiel's hand and into Dean. He could feel it swirling inside Dean; he could see it behind his eyes, just a faint blue glow.

Dean's eyes were wide and he swallowed thickly. His Enochian wasn't as good as Castiel's, of course, but he didn't miss a syllable. " _I give you my soul, willfully and wholly, to protect you and be protected by you. I tether myself to you._ "

At once, Castiel felt a part of Dean's soul pour into him through Dean's hand. It was hot and bright and heady. He could feel every molecule of Dean's being just as well as he could feel his own. Soul and Grace swirled around that circle their arms made until Castiel wasn't sure what part of him was his own and what part was Dean.

After a few seconds, the candle flickered and went out, and the paralyzing connection broke. Castiel felt his Grace return to his body, and Dean blinked at him with hazy eyes. Both men could feel it- that little connection they had since Castiel Marked him had strengthened. For the first time, Castiel felt a bit of Dean's soul in him, like light at the back of his consciousness.

"Is there…?" Dean asked, breaking the silence. He gestured to Castiel's shoulder, where he'd been holding it.

Castiel pushed his sleeve up as far as it would go, but there was no handprint there. No mark. Dean looked almost disappointed. "It still worked though," the angel assured him. "You can feel it."

"Yeah," Dean nodded.

There was another moment of tense silence before Gabe interjected. "So the soul spell?"

Dean pulled back and Castiel grabbed the book with the spell they were looking for. He skipped through the first bit about putting a soul back into the vessel. Sadly, they wouldn't need that part.

"It says we need the blood of the caster," he glanced up at Dean. "That would be you."

"Great," Dean muttered. "What else?"

"The blood of the mother."

Sam sighed. "That's going to be a lot harder to get."

Dean ignored him. "What else?"

Castiel squinted. "The… essence of the cursed. That doesn't sound right."

"That would be dirt," Gabe deadpanned. "The land is cursed and the land is dirt, therefore, the curse is dirt."

"And the last thing," Castiel read, "is an act of God. Seriously?"

Dean groaned, his head hitting the wall. "So how the hell does one get an act of God? We can't just write the guy."

"Well," Bobby said from right over them, startling the group enough to make Gabe fall over. "You could do something that touched lightening."

"Lightening?" Sam asked.

Bobby shrugged. "Closest thing I can think of."

Castiel's eyes widened. "Michael's throne."

Dean's eyebrow rose. "Come again?"

"The throne that Michael, the commander, sits on is made of a tree struck by lightening," Castiel remembered. "Do you think that would count?"

"If we're right about the lightening, then absolutely," Bobby stretched and retreated to his couch.

Castiel ran a hand through his hair. "How the hell am I going to get that?" he muttered to himself.

"Do any of your angel friends owe you a favor or something?" Sam asked. "I mean, you probably shouldn't be caught stealing from the commander."

Castiel perked up. Inias. He possibly felt bad about accidentally groping Castiel the other day. Did he feel bad enough to go into Michael's camp and grab a piece of scorched bark? "Maybe," Castiel said tentatively. "I need to talk to him first."

"I'll go with you," Dean said immediately. "It's high time I meet your friends."

Castiel smiled. That's exactly what he'd been thinking of just yesterday. Maybe if Dean was comfortable in Castiel's environment, he'd feel a little better. It would mean that he'd accepted him as an angel, too. Maybe.

"You should go now," Gabe said. "The faster we get an act of God, the faster this first trial is over."

Sam turned his puppy dog eyes on Gabe. "Why can't we go see the angels too?"

With a glint in his eye, Gabe whispered something in Sam's ear. The younger Winchester immediately relaxed. "Have fun, you two."

"I don't want to know," Dean muttered, pulling Castiel up. They told Bobby where they were going and strode out the door. It would be a good fifteen minute's walk from the cabin to Crowley's little neighborhood.

"Do you mind if we fly?" Castiel asked after a minute. "It'll shorten the trip to maybe thirty seconds."

Dean looked a little apprehensive. "That fast, huh?" He took a breath. "That's fine. Just don't drop me."

Castiel smiled and wrapped his arms around Dean's hips. Dean clung to his shoulders, and it felt really nice to be so close to him. The tension in their relationship had taken a backseat to the tension of the trials, and Dean nuzzled into Castiel's neck before he took off.

It was under thirty seconds before they were on the ground again, just a few feet from where the clearing near the river was. Castiel smiled. He was getting faster.

After Dean's vertigo subsided, they walked into the clearing to find Ava and Inias with their feet in the river and Gadreel on his stomach in the grass.

"Cassie!" Ava called, waving at him.

Castiel smiled and threw out a wing in casual greeting. Dean followed behind him, and Ava's eyes darted back and forth between the two. She nodded at him and raised her eyebrow, giving Castiel an, _Is this your man?_

"Hello, everyone," Castiel said. "Dean, this is Ava, Gadreel, and Inias. Everyone, this is Dean Winchester."

Ava beat her wings and shot straight out of the water, landing a few feet from the two. She gave him an angel's greeting, and his eyes skirted around her tawny wings. "It's so nice to meet you!" she said.

Gadreel and Inias took a little more time to come over. "You are the king, then?" Gadreel asked.

"Uh, yes," he said, purposefully standing tall. Gadreel was maybe an inch shorter than Sam, which made him bigger than Dean. Gadreel smiled and bowed, fist over his heart. He'd been itching to greet the right human leader. Dean saw the fist, but probably didn't understand the difference.

Ava started talking animatedly, and Castiel used that to slip passed Gadreel to find Inias. The angel was looking at Dean, but when Castiel approached, his eyes snapped back immediately.

"Hey, Castiel," he said, almost resigned. "Listen, I'm still really sor-"

"I forgive you," Castiel cut him off, smiling. He brushed the tip of his wing against Inias' speckled slate one, and Inias sagged with relief.

"Thank you." Both angels smiled at each other.

"I actually wanted to ask you something," Castiel began. Inias leaned forward, listening intently. The raven-winged angel took a breath. "How well do you know Michael and his… party?"

Inias' brows furrowed. "Well, I used to be one of his supporters. I guess I was fairly anonymous around there. Why do you ask?"

Castiel swallowed. "I don't even know if this is possible, but I need a tiny piece of bark from his throne where it was struck by lightening," he said quickly.

Inias' eyes widened. "How are you going to get that?"

Castiel sighed dramatically. "I have no idea. I can't get it myself because I can't go into his camp if I'm not there for business." He glanced up at the speckled-winged angel. "I need it soon. It's really important. Do you know anyone who'd know how to get it?"

With determination, Inias straightened his back and ruffled his feathers. "I can get it," he nodded. Castiel felt kind of bad at his enthusiasm. "I can give it to you tomorrow morning, I think."

Castiel smiled brightly at him. "That would be wonderful," he put a hand on Inias' arm. "Thank you so much." Castiel could feel Dean's eyes on the back of his head, but he ignored it.

With that out of the way, conversation went by quickly. Castiel was about to excuse himself when Ava called the two over. "You two should stay over tonight!" she said excitedly. "We're planning on breaking out the booze again. It's easier the second time, Cassie." Dean glanced at him suspiciously.

Castiel smiled. "Thank you, Ava, but we actually have some important things to do." Ava raised an eyebrow.

"He's telling the truth," Dean came to the rescue. "There's business at the castle that we need to attend to." He glanced at Castiel. "And a visit to the villages."

Yes, the spell. They'd have to do that. Castiel refrained from shivering with anxiety. "It was wonderful to see you, as always." Ava hugged him tightly. Castiel and Dean waved to the others and were soon passed the tree line and stepping through the brush-laden paths.

"So," Dean said after a moment, voice tight. "Flirting to get stuff, huh?"

Castiel sighed. "It was the quickest way." He glanced over at the king. "You know it meant nothing, right?"

Dean glanced around, avoiding Castiel's eyes. "Yeah," he grunted. "It's fine."

There was another moment of silence. "Want to fly?"

Dean hesitated, but nodded and threaded his arms around Castiel's neck. It took twenty seconds, but Castiel relished the feeling of cool air through his feathers. They touched down, and Dean stumbled back a little. "Disorienting," he mumbled, righting himself.

"We should stay at Bobby's tonight," Castiel suggested as they approached the house. "So Inias can get us the bark quickly. I assume we're going to want to do the spell as soon as possible."

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "I have to talk to Sam about some stuff anyway."

Castiel nodded along with him. Bobby's house was quiet when they went in, and Castiel knew immediately that Gabe was with Sam somewhere. Dean must have known too, because he strode right up to the stairs and took them two at a time. Castiel heard two sharp wraps and a muffled. "Okay, okay, we'll be out in a minute!"

When Gabe and Sam were dressed and downstairs, Castiel explained the situation to them. "We'll have the bark by tomorrow morning," he said. That was, if Inias really could get it. He was banking on that. "I suggest we stay here for the night, retrieve it in the morning, and work to complete the spell tomorrow. We don't know exactly how many days are left before…" he let the sentence hang. Everyone knew what it meant. Before the hundred years were up and the land burned like dry brush.

The evening was quiet. Dean and Sam went out to Bobby's field to walk around and converse or whatever Dean wanted to do. Gabe sat by him as they read. However fascinating the book about ancient Roman angelic legends was, Castiel couldn't really focus on it.

Why was this so difficult? Castiel's relationship with Dean had been amazing, and now there was silence and tension and strain, even when they slept in the same bed. Benny showed up and sowed the seeds of doubt in the angel's mind.

Benny was obviously the better partner for Dean. It was politically smart, because an alliance with the Southern Kingdom would be much easier to maintain than one with another species that was only recently recognized as real. And even more importantly, Dean belonged in Benny's world. He would never have to worry about what customs Benny used, or what culture his species conformed to. He wouldn't have to worry about weird magic being used on him, because Castiel was too ignorant to understand.

Deep in his mind, Castiel knew he was just jealous. He was jealous that Dean had experience with this admittedly good man, where Castiel had no past. Not one interaction aside from a kiss from a neighboring girl when he was twelve. Benny knew Dean, probably better than Castiel. He surely knew what Dean liked, and he was obviously still interested.

Dean said that he loved Castiel, and Castiel trusted Dean, but feelings changed. Relationships ended all the time. Was it just a matter of time before Dean realized how stressful being with Castiel was? Before running back to Benny's open arms?

Something clenched painfully in Castiel's chest. On the way to the library, he sounded so happy, laughing with the duke. Castiel had been with him through all the horrible things that had happened in the past few months, but he hadn't been with Dean through anything _good_. There were few fun memories to reminisce about, just doom and gloom and prophecies and shit.

He discarded the book and rubbed his eyes until little lights danced behind his eyelids. His thoughts ran in circles. Was Dean pulling away or just stressed out? Should Castiel let him go or cling on even more tightly?

"I'm going to sleep," he said suddenly.

Gabe looked up from his book. "Okay." And after a moment, "Do you want the guest bedroom?"

"No, you and Sam take that." Castiel stood and grabbed a nearby blanket. "I'll find somewhere. Good night."

"Night, Cassie," Castiel heard as he shuffled out of the room. He wandered through the house a bit, stopping in a neglected sitting room. That would have to do.

He grabbed some of the pillows from the dusty couches and made himself a little nest on the floor with another blanket he found shoved under him. With his head pillowed on his wing, it was actually quite comfortable.

Castiel recited bedtime stories in his head, pushing all his dark thoughts away. He fell asleep not long after.

 **A/N:** Please Review!


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** Hey everyone, sorry it's been a while, but you know… life. Please review so I know what's working well in the story!

This chapter gets a little dark, just so you know.

 **Chapter Eight**

Castiel woke to a snoring Dean, sprawled awkwardly on the floor next to him. He hadn't heard Dean come to bed, or nest, last night, but it felt good to see him there in the morning.

He rolled carefully out of the spread of blankets and got to his feet, careful not to wake Dean. It would probably be best if he went to see Inias alone. He didn't need to bat his eyelashes anymore- he just needed the bark.

No one else was awake but Bobby. He sat at his breakfast table with a book and an enormous cup of coffee. "Mornin'," he mumbled, glancing up at the angel. "Y'all starting the trials today?"

"Hopefully," Castiel smiled weakly. "First I have to see if we were able to get the 'act of god'."

"Well," Bobby handed him a mug full of steaming coffee. "Good luck."

The angel downed the scalding liquid in one go, cringing at the bitterness. "When Dean wakes up, will you let him know that I'll be back soon?"

"Sure thing." Bobby waved his hand at the door. "Now off with you. The sooner you start the trials, the better."

Castiel couldn't argue with that. He stepped outside, rolling his shoulder muscles and unfurling his wings. He wasn't used to sleeping on the ground and he was a little sore, but he'd still fly.

He did so leisurely, landing near the little clearing in a about a minute. There was no one there, and he realized that he didn't know where Inias lived. Castiel rubbed his eyes, chastising himself for not planning ahead.

He decided to wander in the direction of Michael's camp, making sure he never got near enough to alert the guards. He'd been kicking stones for almost twenty minutes before he saw Inias trudging back towards the clearing, looking rumpled and tired. It looked like a walk of shame.

"Inias!" Castiel called.

The angel looked up and spotted Castiel, smiling wearily. "Hello Castiel," he murmured.

Castiel brushed the tip of his wing in greeting. "I don't mean any offense, but you look awful."

Inias chuckled. "I went to see my ex in Michael's camp. He was very… enthusiastic about seeing me." Castiel pressed his lips together. He felt horrible. It was his fault for whatever Inias had to endure.

"It was okay, though," Inias brightened. "As I was leaving, I managed to snag this." From the pocket of his brown pants, he produced a bit of charred wood, no bigger than his thumb. "It's not much-"

"It's more than enough," Castiel assured him. "You have no idea how grateful I am."

Inias handed Castiel the wood and stepped back with a smile. "We're even then?"

Castiel returned the smile. "I might even owe you one now."

A slightly awkward silence descended over the two. Inias kept looking between Castiel and the ground, as if contemplating whether or not he should ask something.

"So, you and the human king," he said finally. "How does that work?"

Castiel toed a patch of grass. Was he asking how it worked politically? Or did he want to know how their love worked? Castiel didn't know how to explain love. "I guess it just does?" he said weakly. "We see each other frequently and we're happy." Well, as happy as current circumstances allow.

Inias nodded, and after one last 'thank you', Castiel headed back to Bobby's.

o o o

Even in the makeshift nest on the floor, Dean looked peaceful as he slept. The lines on his face were greatly lessened, and his plush lips were parted and relaxed. Castiel couldn't help but smile.

He debated snuggling back down in the blankets, but they had the lightening-struck wood. They had a trial to do.

"Dean," Castiel whispered, smoothing the king's growing hair over his head. "Wake up, Dean."

He stirred and blinked slowly, eyes unfocused. "Cas?" his voice was gruff with sleep. He looked around at the surrounding pillows ad blankets. "Why am I on the floor?"

"You decided to sleep with me," Castiel straightened up, offering a hand. "Come on. We have a big day."

Dean looked at him with confusion for a moment, then realization passed over him. He took Castiel's hand, resignation settling in. "Yeah," he mumbled.

They soon sat in Bobby's kitchen with Sam and Gabe, eating breakfast and downing coffee like it was lifeblood.

"So," Sam said around a mouthful of eggs, "do we get to go with you to get the act of God today?"

"I actually went over this morning to get it," he said, looking down at his plate.

The clacking of Dean's silverware on the plate stopped. "Did you have a nice date, then?" His voice was quiet, barely discernible from the other side of the table, but laced with a surprising amount of bitterness.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Castiel stared at him, but Dean refused to meet his eyes.

Dean sighed. "Nothin', I'm just tired." The clacking resumed, but he just pushed bits of egg around his plate.

Castiel forced down another bite of toast, though his appetite had gone. Dean was insinuating something about Castiel and Inias, though he knew there was nothing going on. Castiel loved Dean. He should know that. Was he beginning to distrust Castiel?

The angel pushed away from the table and carried his plate to the sink. There wasn't enough time to think about these kinds of things. They had trials to complete. There was no date on the journal entries, so they had no idea when the fire was supposed to come- could be tomorrow, could be two weeks. Either way, they needed to move quickly.

The small group cleaned up and headed out in silence, two horses waiting for them outside. Castiel's wings twitched. Human transportation was so slow, but he couldn't carry Sam and Gabe along with Dean.

"So," Gabe said dejectedly. "Where do we find a baby? And it's mother?"

Sam's eyes lit up. "We could find an infirmary. See if there are any dying ones. Then at least we won't be taking a long life away."

There were murmurs of accession. "Nearest village, then," Dean murmured, swinging himself up onto his horse. The others followed.

For a while, the horses walked in a tense silence. Gabe sat in front of Sam, leaning comfortably back on the younger Winchester. Sam held the reigns loosely around him, trusting his horse Chevy to follow Dean's Impala.

Gabe sat up suddenly and took the reigns from Sam, pulling back just a bit. Chevy slowed, falling behind Impala by at least twenty feet.

"What's wrong?" Sam murmured, unhappy that he couldn't see Gabe's face.

"Nothing's wrong with me, but there's something wrong with them," Gabe muttered, nodding at Dean and Castiel in front of them. "It felt really weird between them, didn't it?"

Sam sighed and pressed a kiss to the back of Gabe's head. "Dean is worried," he said eventually. "He knows that Castiel doesn't like Benny, and he feels like he's pulling away."

Gabe was quiet for a second. "I think Castiel thinks that Dean wants him to," he said. "I know how he gets when he's uncomfortable- he wants to hold on tighter, and I bet he thinks Dean would find him clingy. He's never had anything like this happen to him before."

Sam shook his head. "Why can't they just talk to each other?"

"Is it ever that simple?" Gabe asked. There was a long moment of silence. "If things get really bad, though…"

"We'll tie them to chairs and refuse to give them food until they sort out everything?" Sam offered helpfully.

Gabe grinned. "You're so smart."

o o o

They came upon a village in a little under two hours. All four men had the presence of mind to wear plain clothes and a cloak. The king, the prince, and an angel strolling about casually would probably arouse suspicion.

People were milling about as per usual, but a blanket of tension covered the town. Everyone walked with their heads down, eyes shifting from person to person before hurrying away. They kept away from the large men on large horses shrouded in dark cloaks. The villagers probably thought they were rebels.

Sam and Dean kept their hoods down. Not many had ever seen the king or prince in person, but many knew what they looked like. Castiel kept his eyes up; as far as the public was concerned, he was no one.

"Pardon me," Gabe said from atop Sam's horse. A man carrying a large bag of papers eyed him warily. "Could you point us to the nearest infirmary?"

The man let out a breath, as if he feared a worse question. "Straight down this main road about a quarter mile. It's the big blue building on the left."

"Thank you," Gabe called, the man scurrying off quickly.

They set off again, the midday sun doing nothing to stop the chilly breeze. Dean was tense in front of Castiel, who rubbed soothing circles on his side. Each step closer to the infirmary was like pulling a knot tighter and tighter; they didn't know how many it would take to break.

All too soon, they came upon the building, cracking navy paint not succeeding in covering its obvious age. A woman with dark hair walked around inside, shuffling through some things in the front desk.

The four men tied up the horses and stepped quietly inside. The woman looked up and immediately retreated, back to the wall. Three large men and one average one in dark cloaks was an intimidating picture. There was fear in her eyes.

Castiel stepped forward and lowered his hood. "There's no need to be afraid," he said softly. "We just want to ask you a few questions."

"W-Why?" she asked, expression still distrusting.

Castiel shrugged. "We need answers. What's your name?"

She looked like she wasn't going to say anything, but then she sighed. "Lisa," she murmured. "What do you want?"

"My name is Castiel," the angel said, smiling. "This is going to sound strange, but are there any infants in your care that have…" How did he put it kindly? "Terminal illnesses?"

She looked down for a moment and nodded. "My son, Ben. He's not doing well."

Something clenched in Castiel's chest. They were about to ask this woman for her own son's soul. On the other hand, they knew where they'd get mother's blood.

"I'm very sorry, but we need him," Castiel began. The woman immediately looked wary again.

"Why?"

"It's complicated-"

He was cut off by Gabe's hand on his arm. "Let me," he said quietly.

Gabe had a way with words. If there was anyone else Castiel trusted with something like this, it was him. He backed off, moving to stand behind Dean.

"Do you believe in prophecies?" Gabe began. Lisa glanced at the three men in the background and, to their surprise, nodded. "We got one recently, and it told us that this kingdom was doomed to burn and kill every last villager in it. We think we've found a way to save it, and your son is the key."

"Why should I believe you?" she said, narrowing her eyes.

Gabe stood calmly and gestures back towards the group. "That man is the king," he said. Dean took that as a cue to remove his hood, and when he did, the woman gaped. "That one is the prince." Sam folded down his hood. "And the man you just spoke to isn't a man. He's an angel."

Castiel guessed that he needed to prove it like Sam and Dean had. He pushed the cloak back and let his wings unfold a bit behind him, tips grazing the floor. The woman was staring at them, eyes wide and hand covering her mouth. "So you can understand that we're very serious."

"It's real," she breathed.

Castiel nodded. Everyone knew that there was something going on with angels and magic and change in the kingdom, but there were still some skeptics.

"Castiel received the prophecy a few weeks ago, and we have proof that supports the fact that…" Gabe trailed off until Lisa looked at him again. "If we don't do something to stop it, we're all going to die."

"Okay," Lisa said shakily. "What do you need my son for?"

Gabe and Castiel exchanged a look. "Your son is very young. His soul is completely pure, innocent. He is the essential ingredient for a spell that will end this." Gabe conveniently left out the fact that even if this worked, there were still two more trials left. And that they didn't actually know if it would work for sure.

Gabe continued. "If you let us take him, then both you and he will have saved this kingdom." Lisa started crying, and Castiel's heart broke a little.

"Can we see him?" the angel asked quietly.

Lisa wiped away a few tears and turned, walking towards the back without another word. The four followed her, Castiel bringing up the rear. He suddenly didn't want to see this child. In ideal case, this was the infant they would take a soul from. Ideal, god.

"Poor thing," he heard Sam murmur. The little boy couldn't be more than three months old, pale and thin inside threadbare blue blankets. He was in a room away from the other sick people, one with little paintings and toys that Castiel suspected were Lisa's.

"He's in pain. There's only a week left, at most." Lisa said, obviously holding back her tears. She pushed the thin patches of hair out of the infant's face. He was breathing shallowly and unevenly. It was agonizing just watching him.

She glanced at Gabriel. "Will the spell hurt him more?"

"Not at all," Gabriel put a hand on her back. In truth, they didn't know. There was so much they didn't know. They were trusting the hundred-year-old words of a man who was so obsessed about learning more, that he summoned something strong enough to curse an entire kingdom. They were trusting a roughly translated spell that might work. There was so much wrong with this picture.

Desperate times, Castiel guessed.

"We can put him to rest," Gabe continued. "He won't suffer any more."

Lisa stood there for a moment, stroking a finger over the baby's sunken cheeks and closed eyes and clammy forehead. "Okay," she exhaled heavily. "Okay, You can…" she couldn't say it.

"Thank you, ma'am," Dean said, speaking for the first time. Her eyes snapped up to his and she nodded, folding her arms close to her chest. "I appreciate this, but there's one more thing we need for the spell."

Castiel turned and wandered back to the front of the hospital. He passed doorways of rooms full of the sick and injured. He wished he was strong enough to heal them. So far all he'd managed to do was mend shallow cuts and get rid of half of a hangover. Pretty pathetic.

After some time, the small group came back to the lobby, the bundle of blankets tucked securely into Gabe's arms. Castiel saw Dean and Lisa move to the front desk, and Lisa handed him a small knife. Her face was pale and resigned, but she didn't cry anymore.

Dean spoke to her quietly as the knife cut her skin. Her brow furrowed in pain, but still she didn't cry as the red liquid dripped into a little vial. Castiel had never been attracted to women, but he understood then why most men were. Lisa was beautiful and brave to do all of this. She was somehow wary and trusting at the same time, and understood the needs of the greater good while she made sure that her actions wouldn't hurt anyone. She was a mother.

When Dean was done, he reached for some bandages, but Castiel stepped up. He could at least heal a cut. "Let me," he put a hand on Dean's shoulder.

Lisa looked up at him as he touched the reddened skin around the cut. He concentrated, letting the sensation of healing drown out the scenery around him. Slowly, her skin knitted together and the irritation vanished, leaving little more than a smear of blood and a bad memory.

The woman looked at him in awe. Castiel wanted to say something comforting, like _It's going to be okay_ , or _I promise you, we'll fix this_ , but he didn't want to lie. "I'm sorry," he settled for, wiping the blood off her arm and turning away quickly.

He left the Infirmary without another word, and close behind came Sam and Gabe. A few minutes after, Dean emerged, his face grim. "Let's go," he mumbled.

They rode in silence, not a noise from the baby in Gabe's arms. Chevy followed Impala out of the village a few miles until they stopped seeing people. Sam suggested they stopped at to a tiny cliff next to the river. They did.

Everyone was silent as Dean unpacked some magic supplies from Impala's side bag. He set up a little bowl and arranged Lisa's blood, the charred wood, and a knife next to it. They had bookmarked the spell beforehand.

Dean shed his cloak even though it was quite cold and knelt in front of the bowl, quickly pouring in Lisa's blood and scooping a handful of dirt from the ground. Without so much as a grimace, he drew the knife over his own arm and made a fist, squeezing out his own blood over the thick concoction. The wood was placed on top and Dean lit a match. The wood caught quickly, and to Castiel's surprise, the dirt and blood did too. The mixture flared up, then settled into a murky red liquid.

Dean and Castiel both looked over at Gabe, who held the baby. Ben. Gabe stared back, hard, but stepped forward, placing the child in Dean's arms.

An immediate change came over Dean. His eyes had been cold and resigned, but now they filled with a sadness that broke Castiel's heart all over again. He held Ben in his arms for a long time, just looking at him.

"Dean," Sam said softly.

"I know," Dean muttered. He glanced at the child one last time. "I always wanted kids."

With that, Ben was set on the ground, still wrapped in the threadbare blanket. His breathing was shallow, so much so that Castiel could tell he didn't have more than a day left, even without the spell.

Dean dipped a finger in the blood concoction and drew a sigil from the book onto Ben's forehead. His hands were shaking as he picked up the book. Castiel acted on instinct, placing a hand on Dean's shoulder over the Mark and trying to push his own strength into him.

It must have worked, because Dean took a big breath and began to chant.

It was a short spell, and the sigil glowed a bright blue before completely vanishing on the baby's forehead. A little ball of light floated slowly out of Ben's mouth. It reminded Castiel of his grace, but it was white instead of blue and less smoke-like, more of a ball of light.

It rose in the air, but Castiel looked back towards Ben. He saw the moment the child passed, chest still and eyes murky. No one else saw it, and Castiel felt a tear slip down his cheek.

He refocused on what was happening with the light—the soul. It drifted lazily through the air towards the river. No one moved as it finally sank into the cold water. When it was fully submerged, it seemed to radiate outwards, making the water glow from bank to bank. The light cut off suddenly, and the soul vanished.

With a sharp sensation, Castiel was immediately forced into unconsciousness.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** In this chapter: the fight gets personal.

 **Chapter Nine**

Castiel felt cold all over, like ice ran through his veins. His vision disappeared, and he tried to cry out, but couldn't hear anything. He was vaguely aware of the sensation of falling, but images appeared before him.

A faceless angel knelt in a clearing while two pairs of detached hands pulled at its wings. Its cries sounded like out-of-tune music, and blood pooled on the floor. The hands pulled and pulled, and after hours or seconds of pulling, the snowy white wings ripped completely off the angel's body. It crumpled to the ground, crying. The wings burst into flame and the ash scattered across the dirt.

The colors of the image swirled around and around until they resembled the sky. Castiel felt a shaking sensation, and a sound. "Wake up, Cassie, come on. Wake up!" It was Gabe.

Castiel sat up immediately, the images around him once again the real world. His head still felt a little swimmy, and he shook it to clear it. "What happened?" he muttered, looking around.

"You passed out," Gabe said. "Dean too." Castiel saw Dean a few feet away, just waking up in Sam's arms.

"Damn," the king muttered. "What was that?"

Castiel grunted as he got to his feet. "I think… I had a vision. Did you see-?"

"Yeah," Dean rose and dusted himself off. "The angel… and the wings."

They stared at each other for another minute before Sam spoke. "Did you see the second trial?"

Castiel blinked. That made a lot of sense. If the first trial worked, which he assumed it had, then there had to be some way to give them knowledge of the second, because it wasn't written anywhere.

"I think so," Dean murmured. He looked back to Ben, who lay in his blankets, heart unmoving. "We should bury him."

Sam retrieved a small shovel out of Chevy's side bag and they set to work. Sam and Dean dug, Gabe sat next to the pile of blankets, and Castiel sat by himself, working to numb his brain.

He needed to stop feeling. Watching that little spark of life leave the infant's eyes was absolutely horrible. And that was just the first trial. The others would be worse. They already knew what the second was. They had to rip the wings off an angel. He saw the bone and sinews and blood in his vision. God, the pain it would cause.

Castiel stumbled to his feet and retched into a nearby bush. An angel's wings were the purist physical manifestation of its grace. It was essentially the same as the first trial- remove a sizable chunk of the individual's essence. Ben didn't have to live with the consequences, but the angel would.

When the infant was buried, Castiel could only stand to repeat the words he'd told his mother. "I'm sorry," he whispered to the freshly turned ground.

o o o

When they returned to the castle, Castiel flew up to the spire of the tallest tower. He needed to be alone. After that… clusterfuck of _bad_ , he needed air to breathe. He wanted to fly away and not come back, but he knew he couldn't. Just…

What had his world become? Just a week ago, his life was crazy, but manageable. He had an amazing relationship with Dean and was starting to work on allying two kingdoms. Then he found out about the curse, and Benny showed up. Now he was watching babies die and contemplating nearly killing an angel.

A week ago, if something horrible happened, he would be in Dean's arms. Now he felt distant and insecure and frankly, not good enough. He needed Dean in his life, needed him like air, but did Dean need him anymore?

Castiel got up. He'd go talk to Dean. At least be with him. The thing between them was still salvageable.

It took several minutes to locate him. He was walking in one of the sitting rooms, explaining the pieces of art there to someone. "You would not believe how much my mom wanted this one. I swear, she was ready to sell a territory to get it, but the Earl gave in to Mary Winchester's charm, like always."

"That explains where yours comes from," a recognizable voice drawled. Castiel narrowed his eyes. Lo and behold, it was Benny. _Again_.

Castiel trusted Dean. He really did. But Benny was another story, so he stayed to listen, lurking in the shadows like a creep. He'd save the guilty feeling for later.

"What's really wrong, Dean?" Benny asked. "I know you didn't want to talk to me about paintings."

Dean sighed and sat heavily onto a nearby settee. "It's just been a really stressful day. I just…" he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "I'm fine. I'm just really tired."

The settee squeaked as Benny sat next to him and, to Castiel's annoyance, patted his back. "You don't deserve any of this," Benny said soothingly. "I know you got things you need to stay for right now, but when the dust settles, you should visit me in the Southern Kingdom. It's nice and warm, the beaches are pretty…" he trailed off.

"That sounds really nice," Dean murmured, still looking at the floor. He gave a humorless laugh. "Vacation."

Benny continued on about all the places Dean needed to see there, and Castiel's grimace grew. Why didn't Dean see it? The way Benny's eyes flickered down towards his lips every so often, the way he leaned towards him, the way he found appropriate yet affectionate ways to touch him. It made Castiel's blood boil.

A butler came up to the sitting room and cleared his throat, and Castiel could have kissed him. "Your Majesty, your presence is requested in the east council room," he said, and Dean rose.

"Thank you, I'll be there in a moment." The butler bowed and left, and Dean turned back to Benny. "Duty calls. I'll see you later."

"Good luck." Benny watched him as he left, then got up and turned back to the painting, lost in thought.

Castiel couldn't help it. He stepped out of the shadows and came to stand silently in the doorway, waiting for Benny to turn. He trusted Dean, but Benny needed to know his boundaries.

The duke finally turned and nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw Castiel, wings raised just a little. "Oh, uh, evening," he said awkwardly.

Castiel just looked at him, eyes narrowed. "I think you know why I'm here."

Understanding crossed Benny's face, and he stood tall, defiance in his posture. "I do," he said. "Go on, say what you need to."

"I know you're still in love with Dean," his voice was low. "I can't change your feelings, but I can let you know that I will not tolerate you trying to take what is mine." He raised his chin. "Stop flirting with him. Don't touch him, and don't make insinuations. Show that southern honor you claim to have."

Benny smiled easily, and Castiel hated him even more. "You think he's completely yours, don't ya?" Benny shook his head minutely. "Dean seeks me out. He _wants_ me to be near him and comfort him and do all the things you seem to be failing at. You think _he_ thinks he's yours?"

Castiel twitched, but Benny continued. "I've known Dean far longer than you have, and I know what's best for him. He needs someone who can take care of him and make him happy. He doesn't need a flight risk. He deserves someone who can be there for him and help him during this war. Someone of his own species." He smiled again. "Once you can do that for him, then tell me if you think he wants to be yours."

Castiel grit his teeth, barely managing to keep his wings from puffing up. He wanted to punch him. "Dean is in love with me, and I am in love with him. You will not come between us. I will ensure it."

Benny took a step closer to him, and for all Castiel's supposed confidence, he leaned back. "If he's so in love with you, why are you here?"

Castiel fumed, but had no response. He let Benny push past him and walk off somewhere, he didn't care where. But the duke's words struck him. If he trusted Dean, why did he feel like he had to confront Benny?

He sank onto one of the chairs, face in his hands. Maybe he didn't completely trust Dean. He trusted that Dean wouldn't cheat on him, sure, but he didn't trust that Dean wouldn't leave him. As much as he loathed to admit it, Benny was right. Dean deserved all of that. Castiel was just too selfish to let him go.

After a long time, the angel got up and wandered about the secret passages, having no destination in mind. The next day he was scheduled to meet with Michael and Lucifer to give them the documents and look over theirs, but he didn't want to go. He wanted to get back to the Garrison, yes, but he just wanted to see his friends and pretend none of this was happening.

It had been at least two hours of aimless wandering before something tightened in his chest. He wouldn't have noticed otherwise, but he had been silent and slow in pace. A faint heat emanated from his shoulder.

It was Dean.

Castiel didn't feel anything particularly fearful or worrying, but he should still go make sure he was okay, maybe turn in early.

He climbed the stairs, letting his wings drag behind him. Even if he hadn't physically exerted himself that day, he still felt shock-sore. His wings dragged all the way to Dean's room. When he opened the door, he saw the king staring at the floor, breathing heavily with his fists balled.

Castiel immediately closed the door behind him. "Dean? What's wrong?" Was the sensation he felt too weak to be accurate?

"Did you threaten Benny?" Dean asked, voice calm though his demeanor wasn't.

Shit. That bastard ran right to Dean, probably all sad that his boyfriend was bullying him. Castiel felt a strange mix of guilty and aggressive. "I didn't threaten him." Well, not outright.

Dean took a few steps towards him. "Yeah?" he asked, teeth gritted. "Then tell me why you told Benny to stay away from me."

Technically, he never told Benny to stay away from him, but the rational part of his mind was fading fast. "You do know he's in love with you, right?"

"Stop being so paranoid," Dean spat. "He's just my friend. I am allowed to have friends, aren't I?"

"He wants to be more, I promise you that," Castiel's hands balled into fists. How did Dean not see?

"You're jealous, Cas, and it's not a good look on you."

Wow, that hurt more than Castiel thought it would. "You're so blind, Dean!" Castiel's voice rose. "It's obvious to anyone who so much looks at you two that he wants you back!"

"You just can't handle the fact that I'm not with you every minute of the day!" Dean retaliated. "And you have no right to be like that! You're gone half the time over in the Garrison, and when you're here, you barely look at me! You can't blame me for not wanting to be alone!"

"But you go straight to the person who's trying to break us up!" Castiel felt his face heating up. "Do you think I want to be gone, Dean? I'm trying to help your side!"

"Oh, it's _my_ side now? What side are you on?" Dean put his arms out. "You gonna go all badass angel on me? Huh? Gonna do more magic on me?"

That also hurt more than he expected. "Well I'm sorry for my species!" Castiel felt his wings puff up. "I'm sorry I'm caught between all this shit! I mean, it's been a cakewalk for me!" his voice was laced with sarcasm.

"What, you think you're the only one who's hurt around here? Like you'd stop and ask."

"Well if you tore your attention away from Benny for _one second_ then I might be able to make things better!"

"Oh, back to the Benny thing now." Dean gave a humorless laugh. "You're obsessed with this!"

"He's _in love with you_! If there was someone else in love with me, don't you think you wouldn't like it?" Castiel could feel himself shaking with anger.

"Like Inias? The guy you openly admitted to flirting with in front of me?"

"Don't blame me for that! It was the quickest way to get the act of god!"

"And it was so hard for you, wasn't it?" Dean's tone was bitter.

"Dean, I barely know the guy!"

"Yeah, and that makes it better?"

"At least I knew it was fake!"

"You're such a possessive bastard!"

Something snapped in Castiel and his wings puffed out, knocking over a chair. The two glass lamps shattered, and the torches around the room flared up high and went out. The two were drenched in weak moonlight.

They were silent. Castiel's monumental rage went cold, a heavy bitterness settling in his stomach instead. He could barely see Dean's face, but it didn't look angry anymore. "Cas-"

"I have a meeting to attend," Castiel cut him off, monotone. He grabbed the two sealed envelopes off the coffee table and strode to the windowsill.

"Cas, wait!"

But Castiel didn't wait. He jumped, flaring his wings out to pick up a draft. He flew quickly towards the forest, not looking back until he passed the tree line and landed in the clearing.

He wasn't supposed to be back at the Garrison until the next day. He didn't have a place to go. Sure, he could ask Bela or Ava if he could crash at their place, but he didn't feel like being grilled, and the prickling sensation behind his eyes told him that he wouldn't be able to hide how terrible he felt.

He didn't feel like listening to Crowley's snark, and he most certainly didn't want to see Inias now, though it would serve Dean right.

Dean.

Did he really believe everything he said? He really thought Benny's intentions were pure, and that Castiel had been ignoring him, and that he didn't want to fight for the humans anymore, and he liked flirting with Inias?

Castiel sat heavily on the cold ground and put his head in his hands. What was he supposed to do? His job forced him to be in the Garrison half the time, and he didn't like being there when Dean and Benny were hanging out, which was about half the time he was back at the castle. And then most of the time Dean wasn't with Benny, they'd been completing an emotionally taxing trial that left everyone unhappy.

And… Did it really bother Dean that Castiel was an angel? He huddled in on himself. He didn't ask for any of this. The species change had been forced on him. He'd never lied to Dean, and he couldn't go back to being human. He had tried to find a balance between acting like he used to and embracing his new self. Was he failing? Was that too much for Dean?

His shoulder felt uncomfortable, and he tried to cut off the feelings. He didn't want Dean to feel him through the Mark right now. He wanted to be alone, even though it felt like shit. Maybe he was masochistic. He kept putting himself in situations guaranteed to make him feel horrible.

There was really nothing left to do before the sun rose. Castiel grabbed the envelopes and, with the rest of his strength, flew up into one of the tallest trees. He wrapped his wings around himself and tried to get as comfortable as possible before forcing himself into unconsciousness.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** Thank you Fiction lover14 and TARDIStime for your reviews! Life is really hectic right now, but I promise I haven't abandoned this fic. Summer is almost here, which means no finals to study for and more time to write! Just hang on a little longer, and thank you for staying with me.

In this episode: Castiel is betrayed..

 **Chapter Ten**

"You look like a mess," Crowley remarked as Castiel fluttered down from his tree.

"Yeah, well," Castiel didn't look him in the eye. "The meetings are today," he changed the subject.

"Indeed they are," Crowley turned and strode inside his tree. "You have anything interesting to tell them?"

"I have a proposed treaty that the council came up with recently, it- hey!" Crowley snatched an envelope out of Castiel's hand and tore open the seal. "Dammit Crowley! The seal is supposed to stay intact!"

"Quit whining, I'll fix it after I read it," he said absently, eyes flying over the paper. "Hmm," he hummed. "Not too shabby."

"Fix it," Castiel glared.

The older angel rolled his eyes, tucking the paper back in and pressing his fingers over the top. The envelope paper and wax stuck together again, no evidence of tearing found.

Castiel rubbed his eyes, but said nothing more. He needed to focus on his job, and not… anything else. He imagined all his anger and hurt and sadness locked away in that box that used to hold his grace. It wasn't a part of him. He didn't need to worry about it.

As if alerted to Castiel's presence, Bela and Inias barged into Crowley's tree. "Welcome back," Bela's brow furrowed. "Did you get into a fight or something? Didn't peg you for one to throw punches."

"I did not punch anyone," Castiel said, irritated. "Now I have carcanets to find and meetings to go to. Crowley, did-"

Crowley held out Castiel's carcanets, and he gave a relieved sigh. They were set on the counter as Castiel made to remove the castle shirt he sill had on. The last button wouldn't come loose, and Castiel let out a frustrated growl. He didn't want to rip the shirt, but the button was stuck.

"Castiel, are you sure you're alright?" Inias fixed the button for him, careful not to brush his wings in the process. He looked so concerned.

"I'm fine," Castiel put on a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. He slipped on the glinting gold, sapphire, and lapis and clutched the envelopes tightly. "Wish me luck."

Before anyone could wish him anything, Castiel marched out of the tree and into the forest towards Michael's camp. They had never set up a time to meet, so he might as well get it over with as soon as possible.

He headed towards Michael's camp, a pit of dread forming in his stomach. It was a different kind of dread than he was already experiencing, and he tried not to drag his feet.

All too soon, he was there and passing Raphael, whose stony stare sent a shiver up Castiel's spine.

"Early, I see," a voice floated from somewhere at the edge of the clearing. It was Michael, not on his throne. Castiel hadn't actually seen him up close before.

"I didn't want to keep you waiting," Castiel plastered a respectful smile on his face and bowed, Michael barely flicking his eyes to the ground in response. "I have the documents you requested."

"Wonderful." He motioned to another side of the clearing where the stream from Crowely's clearing must branch off. There was no table, but instead many chairs and couches. They looked almost human-made at first, but when Castiel got closer, they looked like moss.

Michael sat in a rather large chair, just a tiny bit taller than every chair around him. Castiel sat carefully on a couch, but found it to be soft, almost velvety. Michael must have noticed his expression. "Angels have control over nature," he said flippantly. "We don't require synthetic materials to live comfortably."

Despite the insinuation, Castiel made himself comfortable and pulled one of the envelopes from his pocket. "The Grand Council of Winchester worked very hard to ensure a fair balance between our kingdoms," Castiel said, handing over the envelope.

Michael took out the stack of papers and did something Castiel had never seen before. He held a hand over it in a fist and splayed his fingers out wide. The motion cleared all the creases out and made the papers rigid, like pieces of slate. That was pretty cool.

Michael went through the contract, chuckling at the paper every so often. That was a bad sign, and Castiel forced himself not to fidget. After several minutes of silence, Michael looked up. His eyes, though paler, were a nice shade of green, and the pit in Castiel's stomach grew heavier.

"This is very balanced," Michael said. "Let me show you mine. Zachariah!" he called.

The smarmy angel flew down and bowed, giving Castiel a very holier-than-thou expression. "I have the documents, Commander."

"Please show our guest."

Castiel took the slate-like papers and read them over. The jargon was much more advanced than Castiel, but he understood some of the things. It sounded like Michael wanted more of the Winchester resources than the Grand Council's contract allowed, as well as complete control over the military and royal budget. It was completely imbalanced. What was a nice way to say that Naomi would flip her shit if she saw this?

"As I am not a council member, I can make no decisions, but I'm sure the Grand Council would love to meet and revise it," he settled on.

Michael clucked his tongue. "Shame. It would be so much easier to get this out of the way before…" He met Castiel's eyes, "maybe a few days from now."

Castiel's eyes widened. Lucifer said Michael knew about the curse. Did he know the date? Was the kingdom going to burn in just a few days? Holy shit.

Castiel kept his face impassive. "Maybe it would be wise to meet in a few days. I will speak with the Grand Council."

"Good," Michael smiled a sort of feral smile. "I'd love to see the castle myself." Castiel swallowed thickly. Michael in the castle made a very dangerous picture, but he wasn't allowed to deny him. That was for Dean to do.

"Well thank you for looking our document over, and working on your own." Castiel stood.

"Wait," Michael commanded, and Castiel sat reluctantly. What more was there to discuss?

The golden-winged angel leaned forward, curious now. "Have you learned about your lineage since we last spoke?"

Castiel had completely forgot about that. "Uh, no. I've been a little busy and haven't had time."

Michael sat back, thoughtful. "Let me know soon. I'm eager to know how important you are."

What? "What does that mean?" Castiel asked politely. Did he mean his rank in the angels? He was sort of in a different category…

Michael rolled his eyes. "I need to know your generation. Many think it's a myth that we come from actual angels of the lord, but I believe otherwise. According to my research, most of today's angels are between twelve and fifteen generations from the original angel." He puffed up his chest. "I myself am only eight."

"That's very… impressive," Castiel settled on. "I will, uh, let you know when I find out."

"You will," Michael replied. That sounded ominous as fuck, and Castiel rose quickly. With a hurried bow, he walked quickly out of Michael's camp and back into the woods, stuffing his proposed treaty in his other pocket.

 _Don't think about it,_ he told himself. _Go to Lucifer, get this over with._

He went straight to the other camp, calves burning as he walked up the incline. As he got closer, he saw that a woman stood guard this time. She looked sweet and charming, with piercing eyes and long, red hair.

"Hello, dear," she said as he approached.

Castiel made sure to bow, as with any normal angel. "Hello, I'm here to see Lucifer."

"Ah yes, Castiel," she smirked. She was tiny, with burgundy wings just a shade lighter than Crowley's, but there was a sickly-sweet edge to her that said she was not to be trifled with. "I am Rowena."

"Uh, nice to meet you." Castiel shuffled his feet. He wasn't really accustomed to making conversation with normal angels without the help of Crowley.

"Don't look so frightened, my boy. I don't bite," she said, turning. "Much."

 _So reassuring._ Castiel followed her into the clearing at the base of the hill and spotted Lucifer immediately. This time he wasn't wrestling another angel, but watching two others fight. When he looked up, his smile sent shivers through Castiel.

"Alright, alright, break it up," he called to the fighters, and they broke apart, sweating and bleeding, but smiling. How strange.

"Hello, Commander," Castiel bowed, and Lucifer nodded down at him. "I'm afraid I'm here to talk business again."

"As I expected," he murmured with an exaggerated sigh. With a flick of his wrist, the angels around him dispersed, and he rose from his rocky throne.

"I have a proposed treaty here for you," Castiel followed Lucifer towards one of the little mountain caves, which made him nervous.

Lucifer paid him no attention, traipsing into one and dropping into a chair around a jutting rock table. Rays of light fell through perfectly carved holes in the ceiling, illuminating the room enough to read.

"Commander-"

"You look like shit." Lucifer rested his chin on a hand. "What's eating you, little angel?"

Castiel's mouth flattened into a line. "I'm perfectly fine, thank you," he said through gritted teeth.

"Sleeping poorly?" Lucifer guessed. "Tackling those trials?"

Castiel's mouth dropped open. "They won't work," the commander yawned. "That part really is a myth."

It wasn't, Castiel knew it wasn't. They had Thomas' journal and the vision and all the signs pointed towards _real_. Yes, they were doing it right. Lucifer was just fucking with him again.

"I… I'm not here to talk about the curse," Castiel tried to keep the stutter out of his voice. "I want to show you a proposed treaty that the Grand Council of Winchester drew up." Business.

"Ooh," Lucifer held out a hand, and Castiel handed over the second envelope. He ripped open the thin paper and took out the treaty.

Castiel sat, staring, for a long time. Lucifer squinted down at the document, then snapped his fingers, a quill appearing out of nowhere.

"Let's see here," he muttered, putting quill to paper. Castiel's pulse quickened as he watched the other angel cross things out, write in the margins, circle things… write all over every page until he was sure that it looked nothing like the original document.

Lucifer held the pages out in front of him, inspecting his work. "This is beautiful," he grinned, and Castiel couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

"I don't have the power to put forth these rules, but I suggest that you and the Grand Council meet, and-"

"And Michael too?"

Castiel paused. "Yes. We wish to make the entire Garrison aware of the proposed alliance."

Michael's face turned hard, none of the playful pout present anymore. "Maybe I'll pay the castle a visit," he murmured. "I'd like to meet this king of yours. Talk mano-y-mano."

"I will try to arrange that," Castiel said, forcing a smile.

"In a few days time, perhaps," Lucifer rubbed his chin. "You know what's coming soon."

What? Only three? Castiel's breath became shallow. He needed to leave. "I'll see what I can do," he stood quickly and bowed in the small chamber. "It was nice speaking with you again."

Without another word, Castiel turned to go.

o o o

Castiel landed on the ground with a thump and pushed open a door on the side of the castle. It felt heavier than usual. Everything felt heavier.

His feet were bare, and his footsteps didn't echo. He padded across the carpet-covered stone, trailing through an entryway towards the stairs. He planned on collapsing into a bed and sleeping until the second trial. But what bed? Dean's bed?

Castiel sighed. He needed to go talk to Dean, clear the air. He needed to apologize for getting so angry, even though he was still angry at the things Dean had said. He looked sorry after Castiel blew the torches out… Maybe he would apologize too.

Raven wings dragged behind Castiel, brushing the floor as he entered a large foyer. A familiar laugh woke him up a bit. It was Dean, he'd recognize it anywhere. Curious, he crept around the corner.

From his vantage point behind a large pillar, he could just see Dean and Benny by the little drawing room, conversing quietly. Dean was leaning against the doorframe casually, looking more relaxed than Castiel had seen him in days. Benny stood close, hands tucked into his pockets. They were grinning, and it left a sour taste in Castiel's mouth.

Of course, it was fucking Benny again. Rage welled up in Castiel again, but he tried as hard as he could to focus on that clearing-the-air thing he wanted so badly. There was no real way to fix the Benny situation- if the guy didn't back off, Castiel couldn't really do much but hope that Dean would put him in his place. He wasn't going to hurt the guy, however much he wanted to. It would hurt Dean too much.

Castiel would only linger a minute more, then he should leave. He had that nap to take. He glanced back to Dean and his beautiful smile… then it was obscured. With a sure movement, Benny cupped Dean's jaw in his hand and kissed him, pressing him back against the doorframe.

It was like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over the angel. Every muscle in his body tensed up, and a wave of nausea roiled over him. For a second, time was frozen. Benny's lips were on Dean's lips, his hand feeling Dean's soft stubble. He was _kissing Dean_. And Dean _wasn't pushing him away_.

Something tightened in Castiel's chest and he stumbled backwards, sprinting down the hallway and crashing through the door. He spread his wings and kicked off the ground, flying hard and fast, his earlier pains forgotten.

He flew away from the forest, away from the kingdom, pushing himself farther than he'd ever gone before. He flew west until the emerald forest melted into sparse trees, then to scrubby brush and yellow grass. He flew until the tears obscured his vision.

When he touched down, he collapsed, wrapping his wings tightly around himself. His whole body ached like he'd had the wind knocked out of him, like someone punched him in the gut and broke his legs and twisted his wings and bashed his skull into the ground until his vision whited out and he couldn't breathe. Was this what heartbreak felt like? Why was it called heartbreak when it felt like every other piece of him was broken too?

He closed his eyes. So that was it. His worst fears had come true.

Dean didn't love him anymore, that much was obvious. Castiel kind of understood that, though. All the stress of the angels and the trials put a strain on their relationship to begin with, and Castiel's jealousy and paranoia must have done it. Benny was a soothing balm to comfort him and remind him of better days. Now that Benny was here, Dean didn't need Castiel anymore. Benny was right.

But Castiel was right too, in the end. The kiss proved him right. Benny wanted Dean and he was powerless to stop it, powerless to make Dean understand. Maybe on some level, Dean did understand. Maybe he had only been trying to pacify Castiel so that he and Benny could stay close. Their relationship had ended the moment Dean set eyes on Benny.

A sense of acceptance fell over him. Benny was better for Dean. Benny was kind and uncomplicated and _human_ , everything that Dean deserved. Castiel was just a burden, and Dean didn't need that.

Castiel cried. He cried until it felt like there was no water left in his body, then he cried some more. He cried until the sun dipped below the horizon and the cold wind picked up. He cried, alone in the deserted grassland, and eventually he fell asleep.

 **A/N:** Sorry to leave you on such a sad note, but Supernatural does that to us anyway.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** Sorry again for my horrible posting habits, but now summer semester is in full swing. I still haven't abandoned this, I promise.

 **Chapter Eleven**

It felt good to laugh. Benny was grinning and Dean's face hurt. His muscles weren't used to smiling, especially the last few days.

"I don't even know why I'm laughing, your impression of a horse is terrible." Dean leaned comfortably against the doorframe.

"Better than yours," Benny jabbed, smiling right back at him.

Dean looked Benny over. There were a few more crinkles around his eyes than there had been three years ago, and the bits of fat that sculpted his temples and eyelids with youth were beginning to fade. If even just barely, Benny had aged.

Dean knew he'd aged too, maybe more than the duke. His brow sat a bit heavier, and his cheekbones and jawline were sharper. His skin was a bit paler, and lines were beginning to show near his eyes.

The two of them were so familiar, and yet so different.

Benny frowned and moved closer. "What's wrong?" he said in his rich southern accent.

Dean sighed. "Mostly everything," he said, trying to make it sound at least a little humorous.

"Life's gotten hard, huh." Benny stated rather than asked. "Things were so much easier back in the day." Dean could only nod. "I liked back in the day."

Benny was looking at Dean strangely, and then he was suddenly on him, lips pressed against his. And Dean froze.

At first, it was like a flashback. Benny was still just as warm and just as strong, his hands just as sure, but… Dean didn't feel it, not like he used to. There was no spread of warmth or tingling in his chest. He didn't feel anything close to love, or even lust, for Benny, and a part of him was saddened. Benny was his only friend, and Dean couldn't even do that correctly. Castiel had been right all along.

 _Castiel._

Something hot shot through Dean's chest and he could move again, pushing Benny away from him. Dean's eyes were wide in shock, and Benny just looked confused. What the hell did he say to that?

"Look, Benny…" Dean trailed off, hoping the duke would cut in, but he didn't. Dean's brow furrowed. "I'm with Cas."

"But that's just politics," Benny said, coming closer but not touching.

"No," Dean's voice was surer. "It's not, I love Cas. I love him and he was right."

Benny shook his head. "Dean, we've been spendin' time together, talkin' like we used to. You can honestly tell me you don't feel anything anymore?"

Dean looked away. "I can. I'm sorry Benny."

"Then what has this been?" Benny looked hurt. "It's felt a helluva lot like we were gettin' started again."

Dean moved away from the doorframe and into the empty foyer, pulling on his hair. "I was trying to be friends," he said. "I've never had a friend before, Benny." That fact was just pathetic, but it was what it was- a fact. Dean didn't have friends. Dean had Sam, and Dean had Castiel. The closest thing after that was Bobby.

Benny was quiet. Dean suddenly felt stifled, and he needed to get out of there. "I need to find Cas," he muttered, marching out of the foyer and up the stairs. He was supposed to be back by now.

Castiel wasn't in Dean's room. He wasn't in the bathroom, or the kitchens, or even the damn roof. He marched to Sam's room and discovered Gabe and no Sam.

Gabe raised an eyebrow at Dean, who probably looked a bit crazed and out of breath. "Do you know where Cas is?"

"He should be back by now," Gabe's brow furrowed. "Did you check your room?"

"Yeah," Dean rubbed his eyes. "Fuck."

"Hey, maybe he got held up," the shorter man soothed. "Just wait for a little bit. I'm sure he'll be back soon."

Dean waited in his sitting room, anxiety slowly driving him mad. He paced for almost an hour until he couldn't take it anymore. He did the only thing he could think of, and took a horse to ride to Bobby's.

Impala galloped at breakneck speeds. He pushed her harder than he should have, but he couldn't wait. An unexplainable _need_ to see Castiel had planted itself firmly in the front of his mind.

It was about thirty minutes later when he arrived at the old professor's house, only to find a burgundy-winged angel sitting atop the roof.

"Crowley," Dean called, dismounting quickly.

"Dean," Crowley said in means of greeting. "Lovely to see you."

"Is Cas here?" he asked, but the hollow feeling in his chest answered for him.

"Afraid not," the angel jumped down, fluttering his wings lightly. "Urgent business or trouble in paradise?"

"Is he back in the forest? Anywhere?"

Crowley's smirk dropped off his face. "No. He left for your castle an hour ago. Do you mean to tell me he's missing?"

Dean pulled at his hair. "Tell the others to look for him. Something's wrong, and I- I need to talk to him."

Without another word, Dean mounted Impala and rode back, feeling sicker and sicker as he moved. He could feel it through the bond. Did Castiel feel it when Benny kissed him? Or worse, did he see it?

He searched for hours, employing Sam and Gabe to help him. He didn't tell them what happened with Benny, no matter how many times they asked him what was wrong. He avoided the places in the castle that Benny would be, and luckily, the duke kept to himself.

Dean resigned himself to sitting on the roof, however much he hated heights, pulling two thick coats around himself. When the sun went down and he began to lose feeling in his fingers, he finally allowed Sam to drag him down into his room.

It was when he lay in his bed that he began to think that Castiel had just had enough, and left. He'd been distant, that much was true. Maybe he was with that other angel, Inias. It would serve Dean right.

He never gave Castiel enough credit. The angel saw Benny's motives right away when Dean was blinded by the need for some form of interaction to take his mind off of all the shit going on. Castiel saw this, and Dean ignored him. It was all his fault- he drove Castiel away.

The ache in his body was nearly unbearable. He would say that it stemmed from the Mark, but he didn't know for sure. He felt cold and sad and alone, and the only thing he wanted was Castiel to be there with him. More than finishing the trials, more than saving his kingdom, he needed his angel back.

Hopefully Castiel would come back soon.

o o o

 _Dean looked at the scene as if he were there. Thomas was chanting in a strange language. It could have been Enochian, but he pronounced it differently. A bad feeling washed over Dean as the fire flared up. Thomas threw a hand up over his face to shield himself, stupid really, and Dean stayed back._

 _When the fire died down, a woman, Abbadon, stood there. Her dress was short, with no sleeves, but it was a nice blue color, and Dean could see how attractive she was._

 _"_ _Amara?" Thomas asked in awe, standing on shaky legs._

 _Abbadon turned her attention to Thomas, and for one second, her eyes flashed black. "Not exactly," she purred. Thomas looked afraid, glancing around at his magic supplies, probably wondering what he did wrong._

 _Abbadon's eyes grew soft. "I won't hurt you," she said gently, and Thomas relaxed. "My name is Abbadon."_

 _"_ _Thomas," he said, deciding to stand his ground. They appraised each other for a moment. "So… are you an angel?"_

 _Abbadon turned in a circle, showing her distinct lack of wings. "No, but," she stopped, "I'm a step up."_

 _Thomas pinched the bridge of his nose. "How do I send you back?" he asked, and Dean snorted. That was a stupid thing to say._

 _Abbadon's eye twitched, then she put on her best puppy dog eyes. They rivaled even Sam's. "Please, don't send me back," she pleaded quietly, her sweet-girl acting impeccable. "You may not have gotten exactly what you wanted, but I can teach you things." Her smile was laced with underlying meaning that Thomas obviously didn't catch._

 _"_ _Really?" he asked._

 _"_ _Of course," she stepped towards him. "I know everything about everything."_

 _Thomas gave her a hard look, then sighed. "That's fine," he said._

 _She ran up to him and threw her arms around him, which startled the Winchester. "Thank you, Thomas," she said. Then, from her view over Thomas' shoulder, she seemed to look straight at Dean._

 _The king scrambled back. They couldn't see him in these dreams, how-?_

 _The scene dissolved, but Thomas was left. His clothing dissolved, and he looked surprised. Suddenly, large slits cut their way down his skin, metallic gold blood leaking through them. He screamed, and Dean stepped back._

 _When he stepped, he realized that there was a warm wetness on his hands. It was blood, the golden blood that was leaking out of Thomas, and it burned. Dean rubbed his hands on his pants frantically, but the blood wouldn't come off. Thomas screamed again, and Dean echoed it._

He sat bolt upright in bed, sweating profusely. For a second, he grasped at the other side of the bed, looking for…

Dean's face fell, and he collapsed back onto his bed. He was alone, right.

He covered his face with his hands. If he remembered correctly, today was the day that Castiel was supposed to go meet with the commanders again, so he technically knew where he was, but he couldn't go there. The closest thing he could do was visit Bobby.

He showered, but declined breakfast. For a moment, he debated about going alone without Sam or Gabe, but they would definitely kill him for that. Soon, they were downstairs with him.

Gabe frowned. Dean looked like he'd barely slept or ate. There were dark circles under his eyes, and he looked like he'd aged another five years. Even Sam looked worried.

"Your Majesty," he said, glancing at the horses being pulled up. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

Dean looked like he might refuse, but he stood, shoulder drooping. Gabe motioned for Sam to stay there, and he pulled Dean towards a shadowed wall, out of earshot of anyone. "Look, I know you're my king and everything," Gabe started, "but Castiel is my best friend. He's one of the most important people in the world to me. So I need to know what the hell you did to make him run off."

Gabe's face was stony, and even Dean couldn't deny the conviction in his voice.

"Benny kissed me yesterday," he mumbled. "I don't know if Cas saw it or felt it or something, but that's the only thing I could think of."

He looked down at Gabe, who looked menacing even from seven inches below him. "And why the fuck would he do that?" his voice was cool, but Dean could see that he was getting mad.

"He thought he could, I don't know," Dean rubbed his eyes. "I just need to talk to Cas, tell him that I pushed Benny away and told him no and stuff. He's the only one I love, so, yeah." Dean's cheeks burned. He didn't really talk about lovey stuff with anyone other than Cas, but Gabe looked like he wanted to skin him.

Then the anger dissolved and the shorter man pinched the bridge of his nose. "We need to get him back here," he said, and Dean agreed. "I guess we'll wait for our emissary at Bobby's."

The trek was slow going, though Dean kept trying to urge Impala faster. "Dean," Sam chastised. "He won't be back for a while no matter how soon we get there."

Dean grumbled, not relaxing for one second of the ride. The need to find Castiel was growing every minute, along with a strong feeling of nausea and discomfort.

When they got to Bobby's, Gabe took him aside to explain the situation immediately. Sam sat by Dean in companionable silence for a while, then handed him a book about different types or weapons and armor. "Think about something else for a while," he murmured, and Dean complied.

o o o

It was mid-afternoon before Castiel finally dragged his feet back to Bobby's house. He didn't fly. He didn't actually want to go, but he knew he had to. Dean would be there, and Castiel didn't know whether he wanted to cry again, punch him, or pretend like he didn't care.

He was still contemplating that when the stone building came into view. Sam and Gabe were sitting outside, talking quietly, so they saw him immediately.

"Cassie!" Gabe smiled, rushing over. He crushed Castiel into a surprisingly fierce hug. For a second, the angel thought Gabe might bring up his leaving, but he didn't.

Sam patted him on the shoulder. "Glad you're back," he smiled. Then it dropped. "Dean wants to talk to you. He's-"

"I know," Castiel cut him off. This would be where Dean would explain that he didn't want to be with Castiel anymore. They would just be… business partners.

Sam gave him a strange look as he opened Bobby's door. "Hey, kid," Bobby smiled at him from over a book. "Been wonderin' where you went."

There was a thump from the other room, and Dean slid into the living room. "Cas," he said, voice laced with emotion. He jogged all ten feet, looking for all the world like he was going to sweep Castiel into a hug, but he stopped. "Cas, I need to talk to you."

"I'll be outside," Bobby muttered, slipping out the door. They were alone.

"You and Benny kissed," Castiel said, monotone. "I was there."

"That's not what happened," Dean reached to take Castiel's hand, but the angel leaned out of his reach. "He kissed me, I didn't-"

"Didn't push him away," Castiel retorted, voice beginning to shake. "As I said, I was there."

"No!" Dean pulled on his hair. "I did, after a second, I was just frozen. I didn't expect it to happen because I didn't think he felt that way but you were right." His lip quivered. "You were always right, and I was so stupid not to trust you."

Castiel exhaled slowly, trying to calm himself. He believed Dean, there was no doubt in that. The man was almost crying, and Castiel had only seen him cry a few times, and never outside his locked room. But every time he looked at Dean's scruffy jaw, he saw Benny's hand covering it. The scene replayed in his mind, and it hurt.

"I'm sorry," Dean whispered, breaking Castiel out of his thoughts.

"I believe you," Castiel replied. "I know you're sorry for letting him kiss you when you're still with me, but I won't stand in the way of you being together."

Dean gave him a strange look. "No, that's not what I want at all," Castiel let Dean take his hand this time. "I've only ever wanted to be with you. I still want to, and I'll want to forever." He slid Castiel's hand over his shoulder, where the Mark was. "This means more than you think to me."

Castiel felt relieved, though his throat tightened like he wanted to cry. Dean did love him. He did want to be with him. He felt it. Castiel wanted to say _I love you_ , but what came out was different. "You should be with him."

Confusion passed over Dean's face. "Why would you say that?"

"He's better for you," Castiel swallowed thickly. "He's familiar to you and won't do magic on you by accident and could be there for you all the time, and… he's human."

Dean's face crumpled. "I should never have said those things," he mumbled, rubbing his face. "I want you, only you, just the way you are."

Castiel forced back the tears that threatened to spill over. "It just hurt," he said quietly.

"I felt it too," Dean said, pulling Castiel close. The angel went willingly, burying his face into Dean's neck. They stood there for a few minutes, quiet. "Does this mean you still want me?" Dean asked.

Castiel pulled away, sniffing. "Yes, just…" How did he explain that it still hurt? "Give me a little bit of time to forget about what I saw, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," Dean said gruffly. He pressed a little kiss on Castiel's temple before giving him some space to breathe. "I guess we've got a trial to do."


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:** Thank you to everyone who's read and commented! And stayed with me! Apologies for being away… it's a long story. But I have not abandoned this fic! I will see it through to the end, and that's a promise.

Here's the next chapter! And Fandonsarehere, don't thank me yet.

 **Chapter Twelve**

Castiel had nearly forgotten the reason they were meeting at Bobby's in the first place- they had the second trial to complete. They'd be ripping the wings, the most sacred part of an angel's body, off of one. And burning them.

The nausea immediately returned as Castiel, Sam, Gabe, and Dean reconvened outside. "So, what kind of angel deserves to get its wings chopped off?" Gabe asked, tone light but voice grim.

"I didn't even think about that," Castiel rubbed his eyes. "Sam?"

Sam looked taken aback. "What?"

"You're good at figuring out how to do stuff with the least amount of casualties," Dean clapped Sam on the shoulder.

Sam stared at the ground for a minute before his head snapped up. "Criminals," he said. "Are there any angels that committed crimes that haven't been punished?"

"Probably," Castiel began to pace. "I don't know exactly where, though, we might have to find-"

"Crowley," a British voice floated behind them. The burgundy-winged angel leaned against a rock near Bobby's flower beds. "Ta-da."

Castiel scowled, though he _was_ going to suggest him. "Got any bright ideas?" Castiel crossed his arms.

"All of my ideas are bright," he said, pushing off the wall. "Just so happens that one in particular is a gem."

"Care to share with the class?" Dean asked, also irritated.

Crowley examined his nails. "Michael executes all his criminals immediately. Lucifer, however, keeps them for… fun." Castiel swallowed thickly. That didn't seem ominous at all.

"Let's go talk to Lucifer, then," Castiel mumbled. "He'll like the plan we have in mind."

"We'll get close," Crowley said, turning. "Then let me and Castiel go in first."

Castiel chose not to reply, instead following him into the forest, Dean, Sam, and Gabe close behind. They didn't have any magic supplies or spell books, just matches. The vision made it clear what they had to do.

"Sam, you probably shouldn't be grinning so hard," Castiel heard Gabe whisper. "We're about to de-featherate an angel."

"But I finally get to see them," he whispered back. "I mean, other than Crowley."

"I heard that," Crowley called.

"Nerd," Dean murmured.

Castiel smiled. For a moment, it was as if they were normal. Well, as normal as they could be. Sam fascinated, Dean joking, and Crowley sassy. Then they reached familiar ground.

"We're up," Crowley said. Sam, Gabe, and Dean stopped, nervously waiting twenty feet from the boulder that signified the entrance.

Rowena sat at the entrance, as she did earlier that day. "Ah, Castiel again," she smirked. "What can I do for you boys?" she said as the angels approached.

The two bowed. "Rowena," Crowley said. His voice was completely placid and polite, but his eye twitched. "Always a pleasure."

"We'd like to see Lucifer again," Castiel said with a strained smile. "Not on business, we just have a question for him." He glanced back at Sam and Dean, who stood awkwardly.

Rowena raised an eyebrow. "I'll see if he's available." She whistled, not even very loudly, but Lilith was there immediately. "Go see if the commander is available to talk with our guests," she smiled, and Lilith ran off.

There were several moments of awkward silence, in which the three humans joined their group. Dean had dropped back into his "royal face" and Sam looked like he was holding back excitement. Gabe seemed to be unfazed and Castiel was just… nervous.

Lilith appeared, finally. "Right this way." She took Castiel and Crowley's hands in hers, which was way more uncomfortable than Castiel thought it would be. He didn't let go, though, in case that would be considered rude. He definitely didn't want to upset anyone in this place.

Dean, Sam, and Gabe followed close behind. As they walked towards the base of the hilltop, towards the various cave entrances, the angels all stopped whatever they were doing to stare at them. Some stares were curious, some were leering, and some were downright hostile.

"Ah, my friends," Lucifer said, lounging once again at his tree stump table. Castiel bit his tongue at the words, but bowed nonetheless.

"Commander," he said in greeting. The humans looked at Castiel's outstretched wings and then at each other, deciding finally to bow their heads. Dean's was barely a glance to the ground. He was definitely stating his status as a king.

"Long time no see." Lucifer's eyes glanced to each of their faces, skipping past Dean's surprisingly quickly and coming to rest on Sam. "Tall one, aren't you?" he grinned, and Sam no longer looked excited. Gabe leaned imperceptibly towards him, but said nothing.

After a tense moment of silence, Lucifer pushed out of his chair and ruffled his feathers. "So, you have a question?"

"We do, Commander," Crowley stepped in. "We wanted to know if you have any… disobedient angels you wish to dispose of."

Lucifer raised his eyebrows. "I have plenty of disobedient angels, but I don't know if Alastair wants to let go of any of them." He narrowed his eyes. "Why do you want one?"

Crowley cleared his throat. "You see—"

"You're about to lie," Lucifer's stare was knowing and icy.

"I want to study them," Sam blurted, and all eyes turned to him. "I mean," he tried not to hunch down under the scrutiny. "I'm the academic type, and since we learned angels were real, I've wanted to get a closer look."

Lucifer smiled at him, a sort of feral grin. "I can see that." He tilted his head. "Why a criminal though? Why not someone better?" he ruffled his feathers a little, clear indication of what he was saying.

Sam swallowed. "We were actually planning on taking the wings and leaving the body," he said quickly. "With permission, of course. That would technically leave him still in Alastair's care and still give us the tools we need."

Castiel couldn't help the note of pride in Dean's smile. Sam was telling the truth, but with a twist that made it all seem much less sinister. He really was smart.

Lucifer turned and paced. "Well, that sounds like an excellent punishment," he mused. "And it would leave every party happy. Except your victim, of course." He looked back at Sam. "You'd make a great king."

Sam said nothing and Dean said nothing, though he clearly wanted to. "Can we take that as an agreement?" Crowley asked.

Lucifer nodded. "Why not? The cages are in that cave," he nodded towards the farthest left entrance. "Go pick one."

Castiel turned a little white. _They_ had to pick the angel that would be, well, tortured? That was like playing god. Too dangerous.

They went anyway. What choice did they have?

Gabe brushed his hand against Sam's. "He seemed interested. You okay?" he asked quietly.

Sam swallowed. "He terrifies me."

"Hot cocoa and cuddling later," Gabe promised, and Sam gave him a relieved smile.

Dean and Castiel took the lead, crossing through the murmuring crowd of angels to the prison cave. There were steps going down, and Castiel held onto Dean's shoulder so he wouldn't slip. And maybe a little for comfort. The angel wanted time, but he also still loved him.

Contrary to what Castiel thought, the air grew warmer as they descended. When they came to a stop, they saw a few cages, as well as an angel with coal and gray spotted wings, threaded every few inches with a pale greenish color.

"Welcome," he said, and Castiel's brow furrowed. His voice was smooth but a little strained, as if he were more suited to yelling. It was a little higher pitched than he expected, but when his lips curled into a smile, those thoughts went away.

This must be Alastair. His eyes were a pale blue, sunken into his head like a skull. He was so thin, Castiel could make out the basic shape of his ribs. He looked frail, but the glint in his eye kept Castiel on his toes.

"Alastair?" Dean asked, creeping forward cautiously.

"My my, the cursed king here at last," he said in a creepy, sing-song voice.

Dean grit his teeth. "We're here for an angel," Castiel interjected. "One who's committed a crime."

Alastair's smile turned wry. "Well, you _are_ in the prison." He swept his hand around. "Take your pick."

Castiel walked down the row of five cages, dirty, bloody bodies with broken wings filling the tiny cells. Most of them were hunched down and refusing eye contact, all except one.

He was a relatively handsome angel, hair aged to a blondish-gray. His wings, though streaked with blood and dirt, were a pale yellow color. When Castiel made eye contact, the angel smiled.

"What did he do to get in here?" Castiel asked quietly.

"Azazel had some… unique methods of testing new magic," Alastair didn't sound the least bit disgusted. "He preferred human children as subjects."

Sam bumped Dean. "The Sioux Falls Serial Killer," he murmured, and Dean's face hardened.

Castiel remembered that particular atrocity a few years back. Twenty-six children under the age of ten were abducted over the course of a year in the Sioux Falls territory, and each one of them was found dead and mangled right outside the forest line.

"We'll take him," Dean's voice lowered an octave.

"Big plans for me?" the yellow-winged angel finally spoke.

"Absolutely," Castiel muttered.

Alastair grabbed him roughly from the cell, tying his hands in front of him with a thick brown rope. "Have fun!" Alastair sang as Dean pushed Azazel roughly up the stairs.

They walked out into the afternoon sun, Azazel's broken wings dragging behind him. Lucifer approached, and the group stopped. "We'll have him back soon," Castiel nodded, but Lucifer put a hand on his arm.

"No," he said with a little smile. "You'll do it here."

Castiel's eyes widened and darted to the slowly-forming crowd of interested angels. "Out here in the open?"

"Why not?" Lucifer shrugged. "It'll give everyone a little taste of what the new angel and his king are made of."

Well shit. Not only was this going to be harder to do in front of other people, but it could potentially ruin relations with Lucifer's party. If they didn't do this and tried to find another way, the angels would see them as weak and spineless. If they did, then the angels would understand them to be violent and unmerciful. No one else in the clearing knew why they needed an angel's wings.

An unnamed angel held out a blade to Castiel. It was huge, more of a machete, and one edge was serrated. The dark bits scattered on the barbs may have been dried blood, and Castiel's thoughts stopped right there.

After a moment, Dean took it instead. Castiel remembered Sam saying something about Dean getting violent during the First Rebellion, and the look in his eye said that there was about to be a sequel of that.

Sam, Gabe, and Crowley stepped back. Dean shot Castiel a look, and the angel took a deep breath. They had to do this. This angel was a child killer and deserved more than clipped wings. They'd do this to save the kingdom.

"Hold it out," Dean said quietly, pushing the pale yellow wing away from his back. Castiel gripped the humerus bone and held it tight. Dean steeled himself, then brought the machete down. The flesh tore, and Azazel screamed.

It took so much longer than Castiel thought to cut off the wing. It wasn't a clean cut. Dean had to stop and saw through bone and cartilage, frequently wiping stray bloodied feathers off the blade. As he got closer to the bottom, they had to push Azazel forward to reach the end.

With one last slice, the wing was off and in Castiel's hands and he kind of wanted to vomit again. Good thing he hadn't eaten that day.

Azazel's screams died into broken moans. He hunched in on himself as blood poured down his back, bits of muscle and bone sticking out. The wing in Castiel's hands was dripping blood as well. Then Sam and Gabe were there, wrapping the wing in some sheet that Castiel had never seen.

Dean was breathing heavily, not an ounce of disturbance on his face. That in itself was a bit disturbing. "One down, one to go," Dean growled, and Castiel closed his eyes.

More screaming, more blood. Castiel did what he was more frequently having to do and shoved his emotions down, locking them into a little box for a while. They were saving Dean's kingdom. The coppery smell of blood wasn't important.

When they were finally done, Dean's knife and hands were drenched with blood and Azazel had passed out, wingless. Sam's expression was grave, Gabe was white as the sheet before it wrapped up a wing, and Crowley looked lost in thought. "An effective punishment, if you ask me," he murmured, but everyone ignored him.

Soon the wings were wrapped as best as they could be and tucked securely under both Winchesters' arms. They dragged the floor, but that was okay. They'd be burning them to complete the trial anyway.

"Thank you very much, Commander," Castiel said to Lucifer, voice strained.

"Not a problem," the angel grinned. As they walked out of the clearing, he called, "Looking forward to our next visit!"

They crossed into the forest and hurried away. While they walked, Gabe linked his arm with Castiel's. He was silent- what was there to say?

"Am I correct in saying that I'm not needed any more today?" Crowley said, making Castiel jump. He nearly forgot the other angel was there.

"Yes, thank you for your assistance." Castiel had barely finished speaking when Crowley spread his wings and shot into the air, flying off to who-knows-where.

They walked for a distance until Sam stopped them. "We're far enough away now. Let's get it over with."

Castiel helped unwrap the wings, reminding himself that his feelings were in the box and that this didn't upset him and that everything was fine. At least it would be over soon.

The yellow wings were laid out on a large patch of dirt, and Castiel flashed back to when they found the white wing in a shadow box in the hidden library room. He'd seen a dozens of color combinations, but no white.

The yellow was also red and brown and black, and soon they would be nothing but ash. The four stepped back and Dean lit a match. After a tense moment, he tossed it on the wings and they ignited.

The fire immediately flared up, which told Castiel that this was indeed magic happening. They burned so quickly it looked like they were melting, and in only a few moments, the ashen pile appeared.

A sudden wind picked up, scattering the ashes over the dirt. They glowed a vibrant orange before sinking into the ground, leaving nothing left.

This time, Castiel was ready for the blackness to overtake him.

He and Dean stood in a dark room, able to see each other but not the scenery around them. This dream was strange. It was vivid, and he heard a voice. It sounded like a whipping wind, and Castiel could just make out a faint, "Bleed for me, Winchester."

"Cas?" Dean called, fear in his voice, "What-" And then he began to scream.

Castiel watched, frozen in horror, as Dean's clothes were torn to shreds, golden blood soaking them through immediately. His skin was cut like ribbons, and the color flooded out of his face. "Cas," he whispered before collapsing.

"No!" Castiel found his voice and ran over to Dean, cradling his head in his hands. "No!" There was no pulse, and the puddle of blood looked more like a pond.

Castiel couldn't help the tears. He cried, and where his tears fell, small flames erupted. At once, the blood burned, and it took Dean with it. Then there was rain, and Dean's body disappeared. Castiel was clutching at the ground, crying, when he noticed that the ground was grass, and the grass was green, and there was sunshine and flowers everywhere.

But Dean was dead.

Someone was screaming. Castiel's vision swam, and he realized that _he_ was the one screaming, and the real world was coming back to them.

"Cassie!" Gabe was shaking him. "Cassie stop! Wake up!"

He sat bolt upright and whirled around, disoriented. He saw Dean, already sitting up with his face in his hands. Sam was next to him with tears in his eyes.

"No," Castiel whispered again, voice hoarse.

"Yes," Dean said. He looked up at Castiel, resignation painted all over his face. "The last trial… I have to die."


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N:** Thank you to Fandomsarehere for your comments, despite the pain I'm causing you! And thank you to everyone who's staying with me, your patience is appreciated. Now for something both happy and sad and all around feels-inducing.

 **Chapter Thirteen**

Castiel scrambled his feet. "No," he repeated. It was if that was the only thing he could say. He could feel the tears track down his face, but it wasn't important.

He stumbled over to Dean and threw his arms around him, no doubt smearing his clothes with dirt. "No," this one came out like a choked sob. "No, I won't let this happen!"

Dean's arms circled him. "Shh, it's okay," he whispered, pulling Castiel onto his lap. "It'll be okay."

Castiel wanted to yell at him that no, it would not be okay, because Dean was an idiot if he thought Castiel wouldn't do anything to prevent this. But Castiel couldn't form the words through the intense burning in his throat.

Dean rocked them gently, murmuring soothing nonsense into Castiel's hair. The angel lost track of time; all he could do anymore was hold Dean tightly so he could never leave him.

Eventually, the tears turned into little dry chokes, and then to strained breathing. Dean exhaled slowly before pulling away a little. "Let's go home," he said quietly. Castiel nodded.

The walk back to Bobby's was a blur, and Castiel kept his hand firmly fitted in Dean's. He felt like if he stopped touching him, Dean would die on the spot. Bobby could tell that something was wrong, he could always tell, but before he had the chance to give Dean the third degree, Sam shook his head.

They got on the horses and set off towards the kingdom. Castiel felt his wings drag the ground as the horses trotted, but he had no energy to keep them folded against his back. He just kept replaying Dean's broken screams and the light leaving his eyes over and over in his head. He held Dean tightly around the waist and pressed his forehead to the back of Dean's neck.

They were back and all Castiel wanted to do was go up to Dean's room and sleep or cry or make love, _something_ to hold onto him tightly. Dean, in an uncharacteristic show of cheerfulness, suggested they all go down to the kitchens and see if Charlie was making pie or something.

So Castiel went. He could feel himself starting to numb over, from the events of fighting with Dean, seeing Benny kiss him, flying halfway across the country, coming back to see Michael and Lucifer, the emotional whiplash of mostly making up with Dean, tearing off an angel's wings, and having a graphic vision about Dean's death. Holding Dean's head in his hands as he bled out. God.

"My favorite chef!" Dean grinned at the redhead. "Anything for us to sample today?"

"You're in luck, Your Majesty," Charlie ducked into a large pantry and pulled out two covered tins. "The staff made off with most of it, but I still have half of a cherry pie and half of a pecan pie left."

Dean make a noise of happiness and hugged her, taking the tins right out of her hands. "You're a lifesaver."

The kitchens were virtually empty, and the four sat at one of the crude wooden tables. Dean cut them each slices of the pie, but only he dug in. Sam, Gabe, and Castiel just stared at him.

"Dean," Sam said carefully. "Shouldn't we, I don't know, talk about this?"

"I don't see why," Dean said around a mouthful of cherries, avoiding eye contact.

"Dean," Sam tried again. "You said that the third trial needed Winchester blood." Dean swallowed and put down his fork, but said nothing. Sam sucked in a breath. "What if-"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence," Dean growled, eyes flaming.

Sam made an exasperated movement with his hands. "Well there has to be another way!" he said. "Let's just go back to Thomas' library and look-"

"No," Dean said decisively. "What's done is done. I-"

Castiel stood up quickly, toppling his chair over and cutting off the conversation. He wasn't sad anymore, he was angry. "I believe it's time for Dean and I to retire," the angel said, voice dangerously low.

Something flashed in Dean's eyes. Apprehension? Castiel thought he might argue, but got up after a minute, leaving the rest of his pie.

Dean and Castiel were out the door, and Gabe turned to Sam, eyes reflecting a similar fire. "What the hell was that?"

The prince sighed. "He's got so much weight on his shoulders. He shouldn't have to make that sacrifice."

"And you should?" Gabe stood and stepped into the tiny space between Sam's chair and the table, facing him. "You and Dean have been trying to sacrifice yourselves for each other for too long. You remember in the first Rebellion, the battle of Lawrence?"

Sam colored red in embarrassment and looked down. Their carriage had been attacked, and Dean and Sam fought alongside their guards. Some rebel had snuck up behind Dean and Sam got scared, so he pushed his brother out of the way and took a blade to the back. Truthfully, Dean could have handled the situation fine, but Sam would rather die than see his brother killed.

Gabe crawled onto Sam's lap and wrapped an arm around his back, tracing the raised scar near his spine. "Once you recovered, you two fought so loudly. I know what you're thinking, Sam, and you don't have to sacrifice yourself to prove that you love your brother."

Sam's arms wrapped around his boyfriend, pulling him close. "I know. This whole situation is just… horrible."

Gabe nodded and kissed the top of Sam's head. "I suggest you do what you're best at: look for a way to stop all of this without getting either one of you killed." The shorter man tilted Sam's chin up. "I'll be here to help."

"I love you," Sam murmured.

"Love you back." Gabe kissed him. For just a moment he'd try and forget about everything that was happening. But he was still worried about Castiel, and what was probably going on upstairs.

o o o

Castiel stomped up the stairs, face red from the sheer force of will it took to control his anger. Dean followed after him, that stupid look of resignation across his face.

Neither of them spoke until they were in the king's quarters with the doors locked. Dean lingered in the front room, taking particular interest in one of the couch cushions.

"You're not seriously considering it, are you?" Castiel hissed.

Dean shrugged. "Why shouldn't I?"

Castiel's jaw clenched. "Why shouldn't you let yourself _die_ because of one stupid prophecy?" he asked incredulously.

"Yeah," Dean said, his voice rising. "Why shouldn't I do something to save my kingdom? The last trial needs Winchester blood and I'm sure as hell not letting Sam die."

"And why is you dying okay? It's not!"

"It is!" Dean's hands balled into fists. "I should have died before, a few times, and you saved me. Completing the third trial is the least I can do for my people."

Castiel's brow furrowed. "You do so much for this kingdom."

Dean laughed. "Like what? Babysit council members as _they_ make the laws? Entertain stuffy nobles while my people are attacked every day? Nothing I do _means_ anything!"

"That's bullshit," Castiel took a few steps forward. "You care about every person in this kingdom and have repeatedly proven so. What's really wrong?"

To Castiel's surprise, Dean's eyes filled with tears. "You don't know, Cas. I should have died. Back in the First Rebellion, I was injured and the mob came after me, but Dad… my father locked me in a closet and they killed him instead." Castiel's eyes were wide. "If I had died instead of him, then he'd be here as the king and taking care of everyone like I haven't been able to."

"Dean-"

"Not only that," Dean swiped at his eyes, words just spilling out. "I've screwed up so much. I- I hurt you because I was stupid and you don't deserve that. I cut those angel's wings off like it was nothing, and that's ten levels of fucked up. I killed a baby." Dean put his head in his hands. "God, I deserve to die, and if it means helping my kingdom, then all the more reason."

Castiel's heart broke for Dean. No wonder he had such strong shoulders; he took on the weight of everything around him, regardless of whether it was his fault or not. He thought so low of himself when really, he was so important to everyone. He was Sam's idol and Bobby's pride and Castiel's entire world. Castiel took the fall for Dean's magic use because he knew that Dean meant so much to everyone. Castiel was willing to let Dean be happy with Benny, because even though it hurt, the world would still have Dean Winchester to brighten it. And now…

"Dean," Castiel murmured, prying his hands gently from his face. "Do you know what would happen to me if you died?" Dean looked at him, eyes red. "I would die."

"Cas, no-"

"Yes," he insisted, twining his fingers through Dean's. "I would die every single day. Going to sleep and waking up alone, never feeling your arms around me, never seeing your eyes or your smile again… I would wish for death." He sniffed, feeling the all too familiar burning sensation behind his eyes. "I love you."

"Why?" Dean asked, voice breaking. "Why do you love me so much? I've been nothing but terrible to you."

Castiel pulled Dean to sit on the couch. "Do you remember the first day I became your squire?" he asked. "That was the day that you said you were sorry for the death of my parents, my human parents. You didn't know them and I didn't even really care for them, but you said that no one should have to die. It was that day that I realized how _good_ you are.

"And then, when the castle was attacked during the party of the Harvelles, you not only fought off the rebels without killing them, but held a funeral that honored all the soldiers you lost _and_ the rebel that did die. You said it's always been your belief that everyone should be delivered to the next life. You're brave and honorable."

Castiel took a breath. "You see the best in people. Even with Benny—" Dean tensed, but Castiel continued. "You didn't see his other intentions because you focused on the good. You took a shot at friendship with your ex, because you were right, no one deserves to feel alone.

"And most importantly to me, you love me. Right?"

"Of course," Dean responded immediately.

The corners of Castiel's lips tilted upwards. "No one's ever done that for me before. You proved to me that I was worth something, which I didn't think before I met you. Losing that farm was the best thing I could have ever done, because no matter what shit has gone on in the past several months, my life has been so much better with you in it."

A few tears were still leaking out of Dean's eyes, and Castiel realized that he was crying a little now too. "You are my world, Dean. So if you think for one second that sacrificing yourself would benefit anyone, then you're an idiot. Killing yourself would be the same as driving a sword through me."

Dean's lip trembled and he pulled Castiel to straddle his lap, crushing them together. His head was buried in the angel's neck, and his hands were bruising against Castiel's bare sides, under his wings. "You gonna kill me, Dean?"

"No," Dean choked. "Never."

Castiel kissed Dean's temple and his hair and moved to kiss the tears away. Dean brought a hand up to tangle through Castiel's hair, and for the first time in too long, their lips slotted together perfectly.

Castiel almost wanted to cry again. That, right there, was the feeling of coming home. Dean was his home, where he belonged, and he knew as his thumb traced Dean's cheekbone that there was nothing that would ever tear them apart again.

"Please, Dean," Castiel murmured against his skin. "Let me show you how much I love you."

Dean stood quickly and Castiel wrapped his legs around him to keep from falling. The king carried Castiel into the bedroom and sat on the bed, unwilling to detach for even one moment. The angel pushed him down to lay flat and peppered kisses down his jaw and neck, unbuttoning the plain shirt slowly.

He slid off Dean to stand, taking Dean's shirt with him. He quickly stripped down himself and manhandled Dean's pants off. "Scoot up," he commanded gently.

Dean pushed himself up the bed until his head rested comfortably on the pillow. Castiel crawled onto the bed and started at the bottom, kissing Dean's ankles and moving slowly up his legs.

Dean stared at him, awed and breathless as Castiel made his way slowly up his body. He nibbled and licked his way upwards, bypassing Dean's rapidly hardening length. The king whimpered but made no protest, just watching as Castiel's hot tongue dragged over his skin.

"I love you," Castiel murmured into his neck. His wings flared wide and draped securely over the two. "So much."

"Love you," Dean whispered, as if he didn't trust his own voice.

Castiel kissed him, long and deep and slow. Dean seemed to come alive at the touch of his lips. He twined his fingers through Castiel's dark hair and brushed a hand down the soft feathers of his wing.

Castiel didn't try to stop the deep moan that fell from his throat. He rutted slowly against Dean, whose hips flexed upwards, searching for more. He cradled Dean's face in one of his hands, trying to convey what he felt.

Dean traced his fingers over the seam of Castiel's wings as it met his skin, and Castiel whimpered into Dean's neck. He needed to get a handle on the situation before it was over too quickly.

Dean whined as Castiel left him to crawl down, but stopped as Castiel settled between his legs. "I want you," Castiel murmured, nuzzling at the base of Dean's member. "Can I have you? Forever?"

"Yes," Dean moaned.

That was enough for Castiel. He teased Dean for only a second before taking him into his mouth, curling his tongue around the hot skin. Dean made a sort of choked-off whimper, and Castiel held his hips down.

He went slowly, hollowing his cheeks and taking Dean down as far as he could. The king was clutching at his hair, gripping tightly and then carding his fingers through it as if he was forcing himself to be gentle.

Castiel reached behind him to gather his oil, which was leaking steadily from the little glands. His body was absolutely singing at the simple fact of touching Dean again. It had been too long.

Castiel pulled his mouth off of Dean only to replace it with an oil-slicked hand. The Winchester propped himself up on his elbows to watch, pupils blown wide. Castiel pressed gentle kisses on the insides of his thighs, stopping just shy of his furled entrance.

"Please, Cas," Dean begged quietly, shifting his hips as if that would alleviate some of his tension.

Castiel couldn't help but smile at him, moving his hand slowly down to the pink puckered skin. He rubbed over it gently, and Dean's head fell back.

Castiel took his time, gathering more oil and pushing through the rings of muscle slowly, watching Dean's body tremble. The heavy breaths and quiet, high-pitched whines coming from the king were music to Castiel's ears.

He twisted his finger and removed it, coating it with more oil before pressing two in. Dean was dripping now, and it was perfect.

He watched his fingers disappear into Dean, twisting and scissoring as he prepared him. He looked so amazing there, open and willing and wanting. Castiel couldn't help but lick around his fingers, tasting his own oil.

Dean's hips jerked almost violently. "Cas!" He came suddenly and without warning, back bowing with the force of his pleasure.

Castiel worked him through it until Dean pushed weakly against his head. Castiel moved up his body, gently cleaning off the planes of Dean's stomach with his tongue. When he reached his face, Dean fisted a hand in Castiel's hair and crashed their lips together.

A moan escaped the angel's throat as Dean's tongue invaded Castiel's mouth, tasting himself and the oil together. He pulled away after just a moment, his eyes desperate.

"I take it you're not done?" Castiel tried to sound seductive, but it came out a little too choked and intense.

"No," Dean growled. "Need you."

Castiel didn't need to be told twice. He rolled Dean onto his side and spooned up behind him, tucking one dark wing underneath them both and draping the other over them like a blanket.

His diamond-hard length was slicked up quickly, and he plastered himself onto Dean's back, not one inch of skin untouched. With one steady hand on Dean's stomach, Castiel slowly sheathed himself inside.

"Dean," he breathed, burying his face into the king's neck. He felt so damn amazing. Why had they been apart for so long?

As Dean adjusted, Castiel pressed openmouthed kisses to his shoulders and murmured soothing words. He repeated, "I love you," over and over until Dean pushed his hips back into Castiel's.

The angel slid out and pushed back in, stars dancing in front of his eyes. He would never, ever tire of this.

Sensations shot through him as he rocked into Dean, the angle perfect, rubbing ruthlessly against his prostate. His hand ran up and down Dean's torso, smoothing over the soft skin dotted with freckles. It inched downwards, and he was pleased to find that Dean was at full mast again.

"Cas," he whined, gripping at the soft downey feathers of his wing.

Castiel bit down on Dean's shoulder and snapped his hips hard. Dean kept tugging and Castiel's pace sped. He tried to pump Dean in time with his thrusts, but they were getting erratic already.

With the last bit of clarity, Dean reached behind him to press against Castiel's oil gland. With a one last thrust, Castiel came hard inside him.

Castiel's blood rushed in his ears, but Dean was still rocking backwards desperately. Though he was post orgasm, he was still relatively hard, and he continued to grind up into him.

Dean was so close. He rolled them back until Dean was laying facing the ceiling, his back to Castiel's chest. It should have been an awkward position, but Castiel planted his feet on the bed and focused, working him over as quickly as he could.

Castiel's other hand found the Mark and he bit down hard on Dean's shoulder. The king fell over the edge with a shout.

This time, even from a strange vantage point, he was able to watch Dean as he came undone again, shaking and straining and so utterly debauched that Castiel feared he might need to go another round.

After a few more seconds, Dean relaxed back into him, and Castiel slipped out of him carefully. With a flick of his hand, the mess was gone.

Dean managed to lift himself up so Castiel could remove his wing from being crushed all night, then fell back against the bed, a little smile on his face. Castiel threw a leg over his and stretched his wings out to drape across the bed and onto the floor.

"Stay with me," Dean murmured. For a moment, Castiel marveled at the parallel. Less than two months ago, Dean was asking him to stay in that same shy voice, right after he first told Castiel he loved him. Now the whole world was different, but Castiel still loved Dean all the same.

"I will," Dean murmured, kissing Castiel on the temple. "I promise."

Castiel waited for Dean to fall asleep, counting his heartbeats until they slowed to an unconscious pace.

The angel slowed his breathing too, but it took longer than he thought to go to sleep. That image of Dean dying kept running through his mind, taunting him. But Dean would stay. He wouldn't complete the trials. He promised. They would find another way.

Castiel's arm tightened around his love, but Dean didn't wake. They would find another way, he was sure. Only then did he sink into sleep.

 **A/N:** Reviews are much appreciated even if you hate me!


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N:** Thank you to all who are staying with me and reviewing! Just a few more chapters until this sequel comes to a close. For now, enjoy!

 **Chapter Fourteen**

Castiel woke to the slow drag of fingers in his hair. Dean's chest rose and fell slowly, but his eyes were cracked open, looking down at Castiel. "Mornin', sweetheart," he mumbled softly.

Dark wings stretched wide before coming to rest over them again. "Good morning, Dean."

They spent a long time just laying together, watching the sun rise slowly from the treetops. Castiel thought they could probably lay there all day, until Dean's stomach grumbled loudly. When was the last time he'd eaten?

"You need breakfast," he said, pushing himself into a sitting position with a great deal of difficulty. Soreness permeated him; not just his body, but his mind.

They needed to find that other way. He wouldn't allow the trials to be completed, not on his life.

Dean knew exactly what he was thinking. "Should we bring breakfast to the library?" he asked, stretching as well. They both knew which library they were going to.

Dean dressed plainly while Castiel donned his wing-friendly shirt. The king rang a nearby servant to bring some breakfast food to the library, the public one, while Castiel knocked on Sam's door.

The prince opened it immediately, dressed for the day with Gabe hot on his heels. "Research and breakfast," Castiel said in his still sleep-gruff voice.

"Perfect," Sam sighed, dragging Gabe out of the room.

They all reconvened in the big library, Dean already looking at the economic records from one hundred years ago. Castiel sidled up to him, wincing at the amount of red ink on the page.

"Should be this week," Dean murmured.

"Less," Castiel grit his teeth. "A few days."

Dean swallowed thickly, neck tensing. This whole situation was just horrible. The angel felt himself wilting, but took Dean's hand anyway. Regardless of what he and Dean… discussed last night, he was still going to keep him as close as possible.

"Should we…?" Sam nodded at the door, implying that they should go to Thomas' library.

"Yeah," Dean closed the book. "Might as well."

"Excuse me, Your Majesty," a servant bowed from the doorway. "I have a parcel here for Castiel."

Castiel could feel everyone's eyes on him like a physical touch. "Uh, thank you." He took the box from the messenger and set it on a nearby table. The messenger left, and thankfully the little group stayed back. Who would send him anything? Was it dangerous to unwrap out here in the open?

There were bigger things on his mind, so he tore off the brown paper and pried open the lid.

It was just an old book and a letter. He squinted at it, then picked up the yellowed envelope. It smelled like must, paper, and whiskey. "I think it's from Bobby," he murmured.

He bent a sharp flight feather forward and ripped a clean line in the envelope.

 _Cas—_

 _I dug up some things about angel lineage and interrogated the red-winged little shit that hangs out around my house. I think I might have found out where you came from._

 _Crowley said the rumor was that the last angel of the lord to come to earth was named Lailah, and she had a kid with a soldier who gave the boy up for adoption about twenty years ago. This book has some rituals for summoning angels, and with you being one, I hope it'll work. Summon her, and she might tell you what she knows._

 _—_ _Bobby_

Castiel dropped the paper, eyes wide, and grabbed the book. There, bookmarked with a scrap of paper, was an angel summoning spell.

"Cas?" Dean asked.

"I asked Bobby to find out about my family, if he could," the angel murmured. "He sent me a spell that might help me find answers." He looked up.

Dean seemed a little nervous. "You gonna do it?" he asked.

Castiel nodded. "Sooner rather than later." Clutching the book and the letter, he strode up to Dean and kissed him.

Dean leaned into it, stroking a thumb over Castiel's cheek. Castiel broke away and, though he didn't want to leave Dean, stepped back. "I'll just be a few minutes," he murmured. "Go start without me."

Dean looked like he wanted to say something, but just nodded. "See you in the library," Dean gave him a little smile.

Castiel nodded at Sam and Gabe before stepping out of the big library. Where could he go to do a spell without being bothered? He made his way to Dean's room, where his basic spell supplies were.

Bobby's spell had a list in it. He didn't need Dean's book, or any of the bits and pieces that went into other spells. He ended up grabbing the matches, two wax candles, and the wooden bowl, making a mental note to replace the candles, as they were dangerously low.

After rooting around for a compass, Castiel stood in Dean's doorway, clutching the items in a small sack to his chest. He didn't want to do the spell in Dean's room. Without a real plan, he closed the door and began walking. His feet carried him to the right, to the painting of Dean's parents.

A smile crossed Castiel's face. The secret passages would be a good place—no one to find him in there.

The painting swung open easily and Castiel stepped through, coughing at the fine cloud of dust that puffed up around him. The little library room, he needed to find that. How appropriate that every place they'd learned about all the awful things happening was a library. Hopefully summoning another angel wouldn't be awful.

The room looked like it hadn't been opened in months. Castiel had to throw his shoulder against it to get it open, nearly dropping the sack in the process. Quietly, he closed the door and lit the lamps, pushing all the furniture to the corners of the room.

He had the candles, bowl, and book, but he just sat on the floor for a minute.

Would Lailah have the answers? Was Lailah… the letter said that the angel had a kid with a soldier. Was she his mother? He stared into the empty bowl.

All Castiel's life, he'd felt alone. He'd never been close to his old family. Well, his human family. The only other servant in the castle he'd ever befriended was Gabe, and Dean was his life, which brought Sam along with him.

As he thought, though, he realized it had become bigger. He had Bobby, who always looked at him like an equal. He had Bela and Ava and Gadreel and Inias. He even had Crowley, however irritating he was. He had more of a family now than he'd ever had before.

But this angel could possibly be his biological mother. That was something on another level. Seeing her, talking to her… What if she wasn't? What if she didn't care about him? A part of Castiel hoped the spell didn't work so he could keep his ignorance, but he knew he couldn't do that. He needed to know.

Castiel turned back to the book. He needed angel blood, his blood. A lot of it. He winced at the thought. There was a knife in his pocket, and he sliced a quick line on his palm and squeezed it over the bowl.

A few drops dripped down. Not nearly enough.

He tore a strip of cloth off his wing-friendly shirt. He'd have to ask Gabe to make him another. With a steadying breath, he drew the knife across his wrist. The blood flowed freely now, and Castiel monitored his vitals. The second he felt dizzy, he tied the cloth tightly around his wrist and put pressure on it. He needed to be conscious to do the spell.

The vertigo subsided and Castiel knelt, swiping the dust away from the wooden floorboards. Dipping a finger in his blood, he drew a circle, with two lines bisecting it from north to south and west to east. Enochian sigils went in each quarter of the circle and at all four compass points. Finally, the two lit candles were set at the northeast and northwest points.

Castiel pushed the bowl away and lit another match, glancing at the book pages to read the Enochian words. They were old, and though he could pronounce them, he didn't know what a few of them meant.

" _With the blood of the tainted,_ " he recited, hoping that it was right, " _to the blood of the—_ something _—I command the heavens open—_ something something— _Lailah, child of the Father_."

Castiel cringed and dropped the lit match onto the circle. His blood flared up immediately and cooled to a soft glow.

"Castiel," a soft voice said, and his head snapped up. There in front of him was a beautiful young woman in a simple white robe. She didn't look older than sixteen, maybe. Her raven hair was a stark contrast to her pale skin, and her cupid's bow lips tilted up ever so slightly.

She was the spitting image of Castiel.

"L-Lailah?" his voice was shaky, but he stood.

She smiled then. It was soft but filled Castiel with warmth like he'd never felt before. "Yes," she said simply.

They stared at each other for a moment, and Castiel saw that her eyes were a light hazel. "Ask," she said, jerking his attention back to the present.

Castiel took a breath. "Who is my mother?"

"I think you already know the answer to that." Her voice was barely a murmur, but Castiel could hear it clear as day.

"You," he said. She nodded.

Castiel swallowed thickly. She was his mother. This was his mother. "Who is my father?" he asked, voice a bit stronger.

"His name was Cain," she said. Something in Castiel's chest tightened. She said _was_.

To his surprise, Lailah sat on the ground, fluffing out huge white wings. Castiel sunk to the floor in front of her, avoiding the traces of his blood. He mirrored her, spreading his black wings and resting them on the dusty ground.

"You want to know more?" she asked, and Castiel nodded. "Cain was a troubled soul," she continued. "A soldier in times of war who, like the other soldiers, did terrible things out of necessity. And still, his soul shone with good intent and righteousness. He prayed nightly to god for salvation for months after he returned to the Kingdom of Winchester, but stopped after a while. He believed god no longer listened."

Her voice was mesmerizing, and her lips quirked up in a smile. "But I did. I visited him one night and told him not to lose hope. I told him his soul was bright. He had the most beautiful blue eyes." She gave Castiel a look, and he felt tears prickle behind his own blue eyes. "He begged me to stay, and I did. I loved Cain with all my heart, and I gave him a child. You."

Castiel swiped at his eyes. _Don't fucking cry, Castiel, not in front of your mother._ That thought pushed another tear over the edge.

Lailah sighed. "That was when the civil war broke out among the angels, the half-bloods who walk the earth. I was forced to leave you and your father. A year after I left, Cain was called back to the army, to travel across the land to fight another enemy. He knew he wouldn't be coming back.

"He decided to bind your grace and deliver you to an orphanage to have the chance at a normal life. I see that it has failed." She said this with a smile.

Castiel thought she might say more, but she was silent. "So he's dead," Castiel stated more than asked. Lailah nodded. "Okay," he said, taking a steadying breath. "And you're an angel of the lord?" She nodded again.

"Do you know about the curse on the kingdom?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Is there…" Castiel swallowed. "Could you help us? I'm sure you're much more powerful than anyone."

She shook her head, dark waves rustling. "We cannot interfere. We are not supposed to come to Earth, but not many of us have a son." She put a hand on his. It was warm. "I don't have much time left."

Castiel let a few tears fall, unwilling to take his hand back to wipe his face. "I don't know what to say." He chuckled through the tears.

"I watch from above, but I cannot see everything." She squeezed his hand. "Tell me more about you."

o o o

Dean followed Sam and Gabe out of the library and down a hallway, lost in thought.

What would happen when Castiel found out about his true lineage? Would he leave to be with his family or something? Would he have some cultural revelation? Dean shook himself. No, he'd still be here. He'd stay with Dean, he'd made that much clear yesterday.

"Dean?" He realized Sam had been saying something.

"You two go start, I just need a little walk," Dean gave them a little smile and started in the other direction.

He walked, but he didn't know where to go. He thought about going to the kitchens, but he probably looked like shit and didn't want to upset Charlie. He could go to the gardens, but being around beauty in the midst of so much pain didn't seem right. He decided, finally, to trek out to the arena where he practiced sparring.

As he approached, he heard a few grunts, and thunk, and a muttered, "Ow." When he turned the corner, he was surprised to find Adam.

"Adam?" he asked.

The younger boy, almost stumbled from whirling around so quick. "Your Ma- I mean, Dean," he corrected himself. He looked like he was debating about bowing or not, and Dean found it sort of funny.

"No need to bow," he said, and Adam turned a bright fuchsia. "What are you doing out here in the arena?"

The wooden sword Adam had been using was tossed to a nearby bench as he sat down. "I don't know," he sighed. "The Second Rebellion's happening, and I just…" he huffed. "I want to be able to fight. I'm just a kitchen boy, but I can at least learn that much, just in case."

"You're not just a kitchen boy," Dean gave the kid a little smile, taking the seat next to him. "You're my brother, if only half. That counts for something."

Adam glanced at him. "In an effort to be brotherly, are you alright? You look like shit." His eyes widened at his own words. "Respectfully, I mean."

Dean chuckled. Adam's lack of filter reminded him of Castiel. Should he tell him about all the shit that's going on? The weight on his shoulders was shared by Castiel, Sam, and Gabe, but it was still getting heavier every day.

"You still good about keeping secrets?" he asked, evading the question for now.

"Absolutely," Adam nodded. "Haven't told a single soul about the whole brother-of-the-king thing."

Dean rubbed his eyes. "I'm gonna tell you some stuff you can't repeat. I just, I don't know, I need a fresh pair of ears."

He turned to the Milligan, who looked at him so openly. Was that how he looked when he was sixteen? Hopeful and naive? "I've got a pair," Adam said.

"There's… a bunch of bad stuff happening, not just the Rebellion," he began. "Our land is cursed. Crazy, I know, but it is. We've had to do a few trials to fix it, and," he took a deep breath. "The last one demands royal blood. Winchester blood. I have to die if we want to break the curse."

Adam was quiet for a long moment. "Do a lot of people know about this?" he asked.

"No." Dean glanced at him. "And we need to keep it that way."

There was a pause in which Adam stared hard at his hands. "Did it say specifically royal blood, or just Winchester blood?" He traced a line on his hand, and Dean saw that it was a vein.

"I know what you're thinking," Dean grumbled. "Jesus, we're all so self-sacrificing. You're not going to help us like that."

Adam put up his hands in surrender. "Just wondering."

"So, yeah. We're trying to look for another way, but…" Dean trailed off. If they couldn't find another way, he knew he had to save his kingdom.

"Don't do it," Adam said with conviction. Dean raised an eyebrow. "People are going to die no matter what you do, right? Better to be alive helping than dead without the promise that everything will be okay."

Dean chuckled. No wonder Sam liked this guy so much. "Thanks, Adam." The younger man was grinning ear-to-ear. Dean realized that he'd probably never talked to someone even close to Dean's status with so much familiarity.

"Angle yourself with your sword," he found himself saying. "If you're going to learn to fight, you better do this family proud."

He got up and held Adam's wooden sword, showing him some pointers. Then he practiced sparring with him, laughing as Adam apologized profusely for getting a hit in. For the first time, he felt the fear and dread ebb away.

What if life could be like this? Just sparring with his half-brother, in the chilly air, maybe with Castiel sunning his wings and Sam reading under a nearby tree. Gabe would surely be trying to distract them, and later that night they'd eat the deer that Sam killed early that morning. Then he and Castiel would retire and lose themselves in each other and sleep peacefully for the rest of their lives.

If only it could be that simple.

Soon, the sparring ended and Dean returned to the library, where the three men continued to find nothing on saving the kingdom. The one option they had started to look better and better.

But he'd promised Castiel, and he couldn't take back that promise.

He guessed that he'd find out what would happen sooner rather than later.

 **A/N:** Coming up next: they find out sooner.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N:** Thank you to all who reviewed! Sorry for the long wait, but you know. Life. There are only a few more chapters left after this, so we're coming to a close.

For this episode, get the tissues.

 **Chapter Fifteen**

Castiel shifted his weight from foot to foot nervously in the courtyard. Crowley had delivered the messages yesterday. Michael and Lucifer would come today, to the castle, to the Grand Council.

Dean paced behind him, wearing a line into the manicured grass.

"What time is it?" he growled. Castiel knew that his aggression was just anxiety, and it wasn't really directed at him.

"Almost three," Castiel murmured, glancing behind him again. The castle residents seemed to know that something was going on. Their king and prince, resident angel, and half the Grand Council stood waiting just inside the gate like chess pieces. Faces poked out of every window, and Castiel thought he saw a few kitchen boys on the roof.

"Which one is that?" Dean squinted into the distance. Castiel strained his eyes up at the sky, a hint of gold catching on the angel's wings.

"Michael," Castiel said. Two others appeared behind the Commander, and Castiel's pulse picked up. "And friends."

Michael ignored the castle gate and touched down gracefully on the road. He had Uriel and Raphael behind him on either side, flanking him like an extension of his wings.

With a huge breath, Castiel stepped forward and bowed. "Welcome to Castle Winchester," he said. After a second, Dean inclined his head.

"Yes," Michael said with an air of boredom. He looked around, inspecting the towering castle and its inhabitants. With a glance back, Castiel saw the members of the Grand Council all but cowering in fear. That was a very bad sign. It would show Michael weakness.

"Let's get this over with, shall we?" the golden-winged angel said, moving forward with Uriel and Raphael close behind.

"Lucifer isn't here yet," Dean said, voice firm. "We will wait."

"Shame," Michael inspected his nails. "We'll be waiting all day."

"Commander?" Castiel asked.

Sharp evergreen eyes turned on him. "My brother cannot be trusted to be a part of this alliance. If you value your kingdom, turn him away."

There it was.

"We want a representation of the _whole_ Garrison," Dean said calmly, though his jaw twitched. "We want the accords to encompass a species. I understand you represent about a third."

Michael's jaw clenched, his eyes darting to Crowley for just a moment. "Soon enough," he growled, "it will be more."

"My brother's conviction almost makes you believe it." A gust of wind ruffled both Dean and Castiel's hair as Lucifer touched down, alone. His eyes glinted with mischief. "Hello, Michael."

Michael's sneer dropped immediately, replaced by a contemptuous smile. "Brother."

Dean clapped his hands together to break the tension. "Shall we move to the council room? The Grand Council is—"

"I hoped that you would've given up your unfounded claim to my title," Michael cut Dean off as if he didn't exist.

The humans were all silent.

"I suppose you want the Garrison all to yourself?" Lucifer stepped around Michael, and the other angel matched his step. They were circling each other, and nothing good could ever come of that.

Michael smiled. "Twenty years and you still don't remember the promise I made you."

"Commanders," Castiel stepped towards them. This needed to break up, fast. "Please, these accords are for peace."

"Peace is a fairy tale, Castiel," Lucifer said, not taking his eyes off Michael.

"Shit," Dean muttered. He and Castiel made eye contact, and understanding passed between them.

"Commanders, please, I know you are both civil." That's it, appeal to their pride. Dean quietly began to usher everyone inside the castle as Castiel approached the circling angels. "We have a solid structure to build an alliance on."

Both commanders finally turned to him. "You think this is about an alliance?" Michael actually looked surprised.

"You humans are adorable," Lucifer chuckled. "This is just a game. And whoever takes your kingdom is the winner."

It was as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped over Castiel.

There was never going to be an alliance or an accord. They were using him to get to the Kingdom Winchester and, looking at the fire in their eyes, they were going to see who won today.

Suddenly, Lucifer's wings flared up and his eyes turned a brilliant blue. "Back!" Castiel screamed, tripping over himself as he ran back to the castle. "Get back! He—"

Something exploded. Part of the wall was crumbling away, smoldering as if the stone itself was made of fire. Castiel hit the ground and rolled, just in time to see Michael's own hands light with fire.

"Go, go, go!" Dean was yelling, shepherding everyone back inside the castle. Sam was frantically shutting windows, and Gabriel had disappeared somewhere. Guards were lining what remained of the castle gates, swords drawn, though they all knew those would do nothing against Michael and Lucifer's wrath.

The two were floating now, large wings beating just enough to hover. Michael's eyes flashed as he threw a huge ball of fire at Lucifer. The sandy-haired angel dodged it and it hit the side of the castle, breaking through stone and brick and causing the stories above to sway.

Castiel's eyes widened as Michael grinned.

"Everybody out!" Castiel yelled, ripping open the barricaded doors like they were paper.

"To the stables, now!" Dean yelled, he and Sam working seamlessly to protect the terrified staff members as they stepped through the rubble.

The noises were loud, explosions rocking the ground every few seconds. Another hole was blown in the castle wall, and Castiel cringed as he heard the screams of people under the rocks.

Did he go help? Did he try to fight Michael and Lucifer? No matter what generation he was, he had nothing on them.

The raven-haired angel turned, relieved to see Dean and Adam digging through the rubble and helping people out. Some of the bodies weren't moving, though.

Mustering up all the bravery he could, Castiel flew up to the fighting angels and held his hands up, willing something to happen. No fire came out, but a wave of energy blew the two apart from each other.

"This is your fight, not ours!" he yelled over the crackling of flames. "If you want no alliance, fine! But leave our kingdom out of it!"

"Fly away, child," Michael rolled his wings. "You can have a place in my new kingdom, if you live."

Lucifer yelled something in Enochian, Castiel couldn't tell what, and tackled Michael to the ground. Where they rolled, fire licked at the yellowed grass. The flames were blue, so hot that Castiel could feel them from feet away.

Panic was flooding Castiel's senses. He could hear the distant human screams and smell the clouds of smoke rising. What did he do?

He turned back to the castle. The beautiful stonework was singed and crumbling, as if the stones were melting. Almost everyone was out, it looked like, with several people throwing buckets of water on the flaming castle in vain.

Castiel searched the scrambling crowds for one burgundy-winged angel, but Crowley was nowhere in sight. Figures. They were on their own.

Michael suddenly flew past him, hitting the ground hard. Lucifer grinned as he pushed himself up, and Castiel realized that he was in between the two.

"Is there anything that will make you two stop this?" Castiel yelled. The crackling was getting louder.

Both commanders looked at him and laughed.

Anger washed over Castiel in boiling waves. He would not let these two destroy the kingdom, the castle, the life he'd built for himself.

So when they took off into the air, Castiel took off with them.

He threw a massive wave of energy at them, which seemed to be all he could do. The energy sent them spinning, but was otherwise useless. They turned, Lucifer grinning and Michael looking rather annoyed, and blasted him together.

A burning, tearing sensation filled him and he hit the ground again. He heard more than felt his bones break. Even worse, their blast had truly set a brush fire in motion.

"Cas!" Dean appeared in Castiel's field of vision. "Cas, talk to me, what's hurt?"

Castiel sat with a grunt. "Wings," he muttered, "and head." Dean looked so singularly focused on him that Castiel actually smiled. "I'm fine. Is everyone out of the castle?"

"Mostly, yeah," he said, glancing up at the fighting angels.

"Dean!" Sam and Adam rushed over, breathing heavy.

"What?" Dean was alert again.

Sam clutched at his shoulder. "There are people trapped on the third story. The ballroom doors caved. We—"

"Crowley got them," Gabe said, running up. "Castle's clear."

Sam squeezed the shorter man's hand. "We need to leave, they're not going to—"

"Guys," Adam's voice was monotone. "Look."

Fire was everywhere. The flames ate every blade of dry grass they touched. The fire had breached the gates and was traveling out into the fields and, Castiel would guess, towards the rest of the kingdom.

"And up there," he said again.

Thick black clouds swirled overhead, coming closer and closer to the flaming ground. It looked like the kingdom had descended into hell.

" _The blackened blanket 'cross the soil_ ," Sam breathed. "It's here."

There was one beat, and then Adam's voice, sounding more like a child than ever. "Golden blood, right?"

Before anyone could say another word, he took off like a shot, sprinting into the burning fields.

"No!" Dean yelled, following him before Castiel could even hold out a hand. The fire closed in front of them like a door, barring the two from the rest of the group.

"Dean!" Sam tried to take off directly into the flames, but Gabe hauled him back by the collar.

"Don't you dare!" Gabe yelled, holding Sam down with his ridiculous strength.

None of that really registered with Castiel, whose only thoughts were _Save Dean right now_. He tried to beat his wings, but pain ripped through him. They were broken by the battle that Michael and Lucifer were still fighting.

Everything was on fire.

The curse was reaching its end.

Dean was going to die.

Castiel's brain snapped and he dug his nails into the dirt, crawling forward on his stomach. Dean was not going to die. And if he did, Castiel wasn't going to be far behind.

"No you don't," Gabe grabbed Castiel's ankle and yanked him back from the flames.

Sam was crying and clutching onto Gabe, and Castiel could feel water on his face too. The fire was too high, he couldn't fly or run through it. Dean was gone. Michael and Lucifer were still fighting and Dean was gone. The kingdom was going to be destroyed and _Dean was gone_.

"Cassie, shh Cassie, look at me," Gabe's voice sounded like it was underwater. "Come on, we need to get out of here."

Castiel's throat was tight or on fire or both. "Dean," he choked.

"We can't," Gabe's voice was gentle. "We have to go now, c'mon."

Castiel fought back, but Gabe wasn't the injured one. He pulled Castiel and pushed Sam towards the stables. Thunder boomed through the air and lightening struck, renewing the flames around them. It was chaos, and Castiel had never felt more helpless.

"Oy!" a familiar British voice cut through the noise. Even Michael and Lucifer stopped their fighting, hovering below the roof Crowley was standing on. He was holding a simple bucket and looked all too calm for this mess.

"What's that old expression?" Everyone stared at him blankly, and he grinned. "If you want something done right, blah blah." He flung the bucket at the warring commanders and a clear substance splashed on them. They seemed to realize what is was a split second before Crowley blasted them with flames.

They screamed as they burned. Angels screams were different, at least like this. It was like a high-pitched ringing, but a thousand times more painful. Castiel clapped his hands over his ears. The screaming stopped when the commanders hit the grass.

Another clap of thunder rocked the air around them, but instead of more fire, rain fell.

"The stables won't hold against a flood," Sam said, voice too high. Castiel could tell that these weren't flooding rains, though.

"Look," Gabe pointed out. Castiel was right, the flames were slowly dying down. The water was washing them away, and he could see that the grass underneath was still green and healthy-looking as ever. Which meant—

"Dean," he muttered, shoving himself up. The third trial must have been completed. Either Dean was dead or Adam was, if that would even work. But no, Castiel would have felt it, right?

He couldn't feel much more of anything, what with his broken wings and pounding head. Everything ached, but no, Dean was alive. He had to be.

"Dean!" he called, stumbling through the smoldering grass. "Dean!"

Gabe let go of Sam, who rushed after Castiel. Gabe joined them, and soon enough, a whole group of soldiers were helping. They combed through the grounds and out into the fields, calling for Dean and Adam.

With every step, Castiel felt heavier. Tears leaked from his eyes as he called the king's name over and over again. Dean needed to come out now. He was fine, maybe a little singed, but he had to be fine. Castiel just needed to find him and everything would be okay.

A sob came from somewhere to his left. It was Sam, kneeling next to a large pile of ash.

Something clenched tightly in Castiel's chest as he ran towards Sam. The pile was vaguely rectangular shaped, almost six feet long and a few feet wide. "That could be anything," Castiel's voice cracked.

Sam was swiping at his face, trying to get himself under control. The light rain was soaking into the ground and the ash, blending the green of life with the gray of death. Castiel could deny it until he was blue in the face, but that's what it was: death.

"Maybe it's Adam," he whispered, sinking to the ground. He stared at the pile, as if he could see the difference. Guilt shadowed him for hoping that Adam was dead instead of Dean, but it was fleeting.

"That looks like it could be enough ash for two," a guard behind him offered sadly.

Castiel stared at the gray as Sam stood. "Gather the guards," he ordered. "I want three of you to report to Crowley to look for Michael and Lucifer and ten to the castle to assess the damage. The rest to the stables to get the injured stabilized until we know what shape the infirmary is in. Then start combing the grounds. Just in case." His voice wavered but he sounded like a leader. A king.

The soldiers left and the rain slowed. Sam stood with him, silent. Gabe must have come up at some point in time because Castiel could hear vague whispers and soft footfalls fade into the distance.

"Cassie," Gabe said quietly after a few minutes. Castiel didn't answer. He was still staring at the ash. Gabe's form knelt next to him and made a dent in the healthy grass. "Cassie, we need to go."

"But Dean," Castiel mumbled.

Gabe put a hand on Castiel's shoulder. "Dean's gone."

Castiel was quiet again. Everything was happening so fast, and yet he felt used to it all, numb to the violence and terror and fear and pain. He picked up a little handful of damp ash, the gray flakes clumping in his palms.

"I thought that after the Grand Council meeting everything would be over and Dean and I could be alone," he said, monotone. "All I wanted to do was hold him." He closed his fists around the bit of ash, and his voice cracked. "Just not like this."

And with that, Castiel turned and sobbed quietly into Gabe's shirt, ash still clutched in his shaking hands.

 **A/N:** Review your feels.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N:** This chapter is short, but it does what it needs to do. Thank you to everyone who's staying with me, I know I've been taking a long time with this story lately.

 **Chapter Sixteen**

The first night was pathetic.

Most of the castle was still stable enough to hold people, so Castiel was allowed to stay in Dean's room. He almost asked to stay somewhere else. How could he go look at the place most sacred to the two of them and still hold it together?

He couldn't. He cried so much, first at Dean's pillow, which smelled like him. He clutched at the pillow and cried into it for about a half hour, then with a few hiccups, calmed down.

He wandered around Dean's room, looking at the few decorations around it. There was the first sword he'd ever received from his father hanging on the wall, no more than a long dagger really. There was a small painting of his mother. Some clothes were on the floor, left there because he had been too tired to put them in the hamper the last night.

Castiel pulled out the drawer at Dean's bedside, and there was his book of stories with a single black feather pressed in the pages. That sent him back into a fit again, and he ended up falling asleep at the end of Dean's bed, book clutched in his hands.

The next day was violent.

Castiel couldn't stop the feelings of anger that coursed through him. Why had Dean run after Adam? He promised he would stay with Castiel. He promised. A part of Castiel knew that Dean would never let his brother die for him, but the anger swept that thought away.

He didn't want to be around people or angels, but what did he do? Fly away and start a new life? He honestly wanted to die, to do something to see Dean again. He'd think about it, but then he imagined how upset Dean would be with him. And then he'd feel upset with Dean again.

He tried going out into the training grounds and hacking at a swordsman dummy for a while, but he was a terrible fighter and the pain in his arms and back didn't make him feel better. He tried to fly to calm himself down, but he had to land after a few minutes. Flying didn't bring him joy like it used to. He had nothing to fly for anymore.

He wandered around the secret passages, his mind spinning, then blank, then repeating the cycle. He found the little library room again, and his eyes widened with a desperate idea.

The bowl, candles, paper, and knife from his last spell were still there, sitting abandoned in the corner.

Without thinking much, Castiel sliced a line across his wrist and let the blood run out until he got lightheaded. The bandage he'd used last time was still sitting there, very unsterile and covered in his dried blood. He tied it around his wrist anyway. If he died, he died. That was that.

Hastily, Castiel drew out the compass points and the sigils until the bowl was empty. He lit the candles, or what was left of them. His voice was shaky, but the Enochian poured out of him easily.

He waited for Lailah to appear. It would only take a few seconds. Castiel closed his eyes and counted to ten, but when he opened them, Lailah wasn't there. He grit his teeth and did it again, but no angel appeared.

"Lailah?" he called, as if that would help. Silence. "Lailah!" He started tearing up again, but he couldn't have that. He needed a full angel's power, now. "Lailah get down here! I need you!" Silence. "Dean is dead!" he yelled at the ceiling. Nothing but silence. In one last ditch effort, an emotional appeal, he yelled, "Mom!"

Nothing. The candles went out.

With a cry of anger, Castiel toppled a bookshelf on top of the Enochian sigils. They spilled everywhere, some smearing the blood on the ground, some ripping old paper out of them. The bang of wood shelf against stone floor reverberated in the room for a minute, then all was quiet.

Numbly, Castiel picked the shelf up again and righted it on the wall. He set the books on it carefully, wiping blood away from the covers on his pants. He made sure to alphabetize them, setting aside the damaged ones to fix later. Lastly, he found a burlap table cover and cleaned his blood off the floor, though the angry red color wouldn't come out all the way.

The bowl, paper, knife, and stumps of wax were left on the table as he closed the door, not intending to come back any time soon.

o o o

Castiel emerged from the secret passages some time later, covered in dust and bloodstains on his hands. He would go and find Sam. The younger Winchester was feeling just as shitty as he was, though he was probably holding it together a little better.

Sam wasn't in his room or the kitchens, and Castiel hadn't seen him outside, so he took the stairs up to the council hallway. There was noise coming from one of them, a familiar voice echoing around the room.

"This kingdom does not need to be changed," Crowley's voice said. "It needs to grow. The angels will be confused in this transition time and I will make it a priority to foster amiable feelings about the two kingdoms."

Castiel peeked into the room and saw most of the Grand Council members, nodding at Crowley, relieved. Sam stepped up next to Crowley. "For the first time in Kingdom Winchester's history, we will be opening up these new laws to the villages for questions, comments, and concerns. It's time to start working with them as well as the angels."

A few more things were said and everyone got up. Castiel folded his sore-but-healed wings as tightly as he could to his back and shadowed himself in a corner. He was in no shape to represent anything right now. Couldn't do his one job.

Crowley, of course, spotted him right away. "Enjoy my speech?" he asked.

"Was this your plan all along?" Castiel retorted, though he couldn't muster up the anger he wanted to. "Pit Michael and Lucifer against each other and then get rid of them so you could rule?"

Crowley shrugged unapologetically. "This was never a zero sum conflict, as the two former commanders thought. Your kingdom is safe now, I can rule the angels as I've always wanted to, and we both get a strong alliance. Win-win-win, you could say."

Castiel couldn't deny it. It was the best possible outcome, except for…

"Hey, Cas," Sam emerged from the room, smiling tiredly. It seemed like he had aged ten years since yesterday. With only a look, Sam and Castiel left the atrium and went back through a deserted hallway.

They walked in silence. Castiel could physically feel Sam's sorrow like a heavy blanket. He wanted to ask, _Are you okay?_ but he knew the answer. No. Not even close.

They turned the corner and sat in a little alcove, quiet for another moment. "I can't do this without him," Sam whispered.

"Neither can I," Castiel replied.

"We have to though," Sam said. "He'd—he'd want us to." And then after a minute, "Is that blood on your hands?"

Castiel looked down at his stained hands, now a rusty brown color. "Yeah."

Sam didn't ask why. He didn't ask whose it was. They sat in silence for a little while longer, until Castiel broke it. "How do we do it?"

Sam looked down at him, eyes watery. "I don't know."

They say misery loves company, so the two sat a while, each wondering how they could go on with Dean gone. He was their rock, and they were both untethered now. Sam was to take Dean's place, and Castiel…

What did he do? Keep living in the castle? Go back to the forest? With Crowley as Commander, he'd no longer be the only angel liaison with the humans. Was he really needed anymore? He'd miss the little family he'd made. Bela, Ava, Gadreel, Inias, Sam, even Crowley. He'd miss Gabe the most. But every step in this place was painful.

That night he went to his old servant's quarters, long unused now. The beds had been remade, but a while ago. They were dusty, and Castiel batted his wings to get most of it off. The bed was hard but surprisingly comfortable, as he remembered it was.

He wouldn't pack. He wouldn't say anything. Maybe he'd leave a note, just so they wouldn't worry. He'd leave it on Dean's bed, then go.

Castiel had never travelled before. Where would he go? Maybe north? How cold would it be? Did he care?

He fell asleep slowly, mind melting from sad acceptance to blackness some time during the night.

When he woke, he put pen to paper without stopping to think.

 _Dear Gabe,_ he began. Gabe was his best friend, his first friend. It was only fitting that this should go to him.

 _I know that it's selfish of me to leave like this, but I can't stay. I have too many memories of this place, all marked by Dean. It hurts to be here, in the castle, in the kingdom, on earth. I don't know where I'm going to go, but maybe I'll come back one day. Take care of everyone for me._

 _Goodbye._

Castiel didn't sign it, he didn't need to. He emerged from the servants quarters early in the morning, feeling more numb than anything else. He thought he might run into someone, have to fake happiness and make a clever escape, but there was no one there.

He tried not to look too hard at Dean's room. He let his muscles take over and made Dean's bed, like he had as a squire so long ago. The letter was placed on the pillow, folded neatly with his scrawly "Gabriel" on it.

With one last glance around, Castiel climbed onto the windowsill he used to sit on with Dean, spread his wings, and leapt.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N:** Wow, hi. It's been a long time. I'm sorry about that, but I'm back! There's not much left to this, maybe another chapter and an epilogue, so strap in!

In this episode: hope.

 **Chapter Seventeen**

Without really knowing why, Castiel made his way to the nearest town. He covered his wings with a stolen cloak and stalked around the town square. No one paid him any attention—they were all talking animatedly about the smoke they'd seen at the castle and the rumors of a more democratic government.

It was simple enough to walk into the record building. This town kept pristine records. Castiel found himself gravitating towards the records of old soldiers, the dead. His fingers were dirty, but didn't leave a mark on any pages.

The name "Cain" wasn't anywhere to be found.

After washing his face and hands, Castiel flew to the next town to search for his father's death records.

It was somewhere close to the castle, sometime around twenty years ago, but Castiel didn't find him until the fourth town, Lawrence.

The folder looked like it had been set into the cabinet twenty years ago and never touched since. Dusty but clean. Castiel picked it up carefully and flipped the front over. He didn't expect to see a photo.

There was a chair in the corner of the records room, and Castiel sat with his father's. Cain had a serious look about him, as if he'd seen war even before he'd been drafted. His nose was straight, and the record said his eyes were blue.

Castiel sniffed a little and turned the page. He'd been sent off to fight twenty-two years ago. He'd gone after Castiel was born… so Castiel was twenty-two? Not twenty-one? With a shake of his head, he kept reading.

The record was short, but it said what Castiel wanted to know. Cain was stabbed in the back after rescuing two of his fellow soldiers. His spinal cord was severed. He hadn't suffered long. Since both of Cain's parents, Castiel's grandparents, were dead, Cain was buried at an old monastery located a little closer to the castle than the town the records were in.

After putting the file back exactly as he'd found it, Castiel left the town and flew until he spotted an old church-like building on a hill in the middle of the countryside. Was this it?

He touched down lightly and padded across the green grass, throwing the bunched up cloak to the ground. The building was old and crumbling, abandoned probably. Castiel listened, but there wasn't anyone living on that hilltop.

There were at least a hundred tombstones behind the church, standing in rows like the soldiers buried under them. Castiel walked past them, glancing at the grayish slabs in the late afternoon sunlight. There were only names etched into the stones, no dates or quotes or other identifiers. Some of the names were weathered too badly to read. Castiel hoped Cain's was legible.

It was. Castiel found it near the middle, dusty but clean like his records.

The angel suddenly felt weak and sat quickly in front of the tombstone. He'd always wondered about his mother, dreamed of it even, but his father had always seemed secondary. Castiel hadn't stuck around to see Dean memorialized with a statue, but the tombstone seemed right enough. Cain had died in battle for his kingdom. So had Dean.

Was this what Lailah felt like when Cain died? Ripped up inside, air stifled, stomach churning? Like she'd never feel sunlight on her skin again? He could imagine Lailah sitting right where he was, miserable just like he was. He could imagine himself sitting in front of Dean's statue, crying just like Lailah probably did.

"Dad," Castiel said quietly. It had come out of nowhere, but it felt right to say. "I'm talking to a slab of cement, but why not?" he chuckled humorlessly. "I talked to Mom, why not to you?"

He was quiet for a second, the stone staring silently back at him. "There are so many things I want to say, but…" Castiel rubbed his eyes. "I don't know. I don't know what to say. You're gone, and now Dean is too. I have no one, I—" Castiel took a deep breath and pressed the heels of his hands into his temples. Reality was too much.

He thought back to the storybook he used to have, and how easy it was to read pain and suffering from that. It wasn't real, why should this have to be?

"There was once a secretive king who ruled over a cursed kingdom," Castiel began, "and a scared farmer's boy who didn't know himself. The king lived in the castle, but didn't think of it as home. The farmer's boy was taken from his home to the foreign castle. The two were brought together unconventionally, tragically. They endured so much pain, enough to destroy kingdoms, but they had found home in each other, and that's what really matters, I guess."

Castiel wiped away a few tears. "Now the king is dead and the farmer's boy doesn't have a home anymore. He doesn't know what to do. He doesn't have anything left." His voice broke and he stopped.

The headstone sat silently in front of him. Castiel wanted to get angry, to break something or yell, but he was tired. Tired and alone.

"I want to be with him," Castiel murmured and picked at the grass. "I want to be with Dean again. It wouldn't be that hard…" he trailed off. It was difficult to kill an angel but it was still doable.

Castiel knew he could do it, but every time he thought about it, he could picture Dean's face, outraged. The angel gave a humorless chuckle. "He would be so mad."

"You're damn right I'd be mad," a familiar voice said behind him.

Castiel whipped around so quickly that his own feathers hit him in the face. There, maybe ten feet away, was one Dean Winchester, wobbly and wrapped in only a dusty sheet. But alive.

Castiel scrambled to his feet and took a few steps before stopping. He was hallucinating. He wasn't alive, he was dead. "But you're dead," Castiel willed his voice not to crack.

"I was," Dean chuckled. "Well, mostly." He shuffled towards the shocked Castiel slowly, as if he might bolt at any moment. Castiel's heartbeat picked up. Either Dean was alive or this was a ghost, or a hallucination. Maybe he was going crazy.

Even when Dean touched his hand he wasn't sure. It was warm and soft as it should be, but it was still impossible. It was only when Dean pulled his hand up to the mark on his shoulder that Castiel could feel the life in him.

Castiel's hand covered the print he'd left there before and he felt a surge of vitality and joy and love. "Dean," he whispered.

"I'm here sweetheart," Dean pulled him closer and Castiel threw his arms around the king, breathing in his familiar smell. Castiel gripped him so tightly that it must be hurting Dean, but if it was, he didn't show it. He just held Castiel tighter as raven wings wrapped them both in a cocoon.

The angel didn't have many tears left, but what remained was falling. Dean seemed to be shaking, but there was no wetness. This was all so surreal.

"Dean," he pulled away a little to look into the green eyes he thought he'd never see again. "What the hell happened?"

The Winchester pulled back and leaned against the nearest headstone, out of breath. "An angel, like a real one from heaven. Not to say that you're not real—"

"Lailah?" Castiel cut Dean off.

"Yeah," Dean said, the corners of his mouth pulling up at Castiel's disbelieving laughter. "She's your mom isn't she?"

"She is," Castiel glanced upwards.

"I was dying," Dean said, rubbing his chest. "I was on fire and everything. Hurts, by the way." Castiel turned back to see Dean push himself off of the headstone. "Lailah grabbed me out of the fire and brought me here. She said she wasn't that powerful, so it took a while to put me back together."

"But she did it." Castiel wrapped his arms and wings around Dean, and the Winchester leaned gratefully on him. "You're alive."

They stood for a moment holding each other before Dean began to sag in Castiel's arms.

"Let's get you home," Castiel murmured, wrapping Dean's arms around his neck. "Sam will want to see you."

"Hope he hasn't redecorated my room yet," he chuckled and braced for angel flight.

Castiel flew slowly, relishing the feel of Dean in his arms again. He was alive. The kingdom was okay and he was alive. Castiel felt hot pinpricks in his eyes, but had no tears left. It didn't matter—Dean was alive.

As they neared the castle, crowds of people were bustling around, repairing the damage and carrying this and that. Castiel sped up and landed gently on the roof so as to not be seen.

"Let's grab you come clothes," the angel ushered Dean inside. "There's going to be a riot when everyone sees you and I don't think a sheet will hold up."

Dean chuckled. It was a miracle they made it to the king's quarters without being seen, but the room was exactly as Castiel had left it. Dean slumped onto the bed while Castiel crossed to the closet, grinning at the prospect of picking out Dean's clothes like a squire again.

He helped Dean dress in quiet for a while. It was slow going—Dean was sore and aching.

Castiel fastened the last buckle on Dean's tunic near his neck and stopped, hands resting on the king's chest. Dean's fingers curled around Castiel's. "I get it," Castiel said quietly. "I get why you did it. And even though I'm overjoyed that you're alive, I'm still pissed off at you."

Dean chuckled. "You wouldn't be you if you weren't." He took a deep breath. "Adam's dead, and he's not coming back. It's my fault, but I'm also kinda glad I didn't have to die. And I feel guilty 'cause of that."

"I know," Castiel leaned his forehead against Dean's. "All we can do is appreciate what he did for us."

"And make everything better," Dean added. "It's time to start listening to the people more."

They were quiet another moment. "I'm sorry," Dean said. "Not about what I did, but that it hurt you so much. I kept asking Lailah if you were okay, but she wouldn't answer me. I was so scared."

"Apology accepted if you realize you don't have to die to do some good." Castiel gave Dean a little smile, and Dean nodded. For the first time since Dean had been back, He pressed his lips to Castiel's. It was gentle, a slow burning slide of lips and tongue that had Castiel shaking in less than a minute.

They broke apart and Dean licked his lips. "We should probably go find Sam soon."

"We should," Castiel agreed, but kissed Dean again, because he could. "We can take care of some other things later."

Castiel stepped back, but before Dean could stand, they heard the door to the king's quarters slam open. There, with a tearstained face and shocked expression, stood Sam.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N:** Sorry for the absence. Life, you know. But here it is, the long awaited ending! Enjoy!

 **Chapter Eighteen**

"Dean! What—How—"

"Heya Sammy," Dean smiled weakly. "Thanks for not redecorating my room."

Sam looked angry and confused and relieved all at once. Castiel understood that feeling. It was still strange to see Dean standing there, alive. Like the battle never happened.

Sam strode forward and for a moment, it looked like he was going to punch Dean in the throat. To their relief, Sam grabbed him in a bear hug. "Never fucking do that to me again," he mumbled. "Or I'll be the one that kills you and revives you."

"Swear, Sammy," Dean choked. Castiel felt himself tear up again and wondered how he had any water left in his body.

"What happened?" Sam released Dean. "How did you escape? How did you come back? Where were you? What—"

"Sam," Dean patted the younger Winchester on the shoulder. "It's a long story, but I need a nap. Cas can fill you in on the basics."

Both Castiel and Sam tucked Dean into the fluffy covers, while he muttered something about, "not an invalid." The second they stepped back, Dean was out like a light.

They stood there for a second, taking in the fact that Dean was here. Castiel would be panicking again if not for the soft rise and fall of Dean's chest reassuring him that he was, in fact, alive.

"Come on," Sam tugged Castiel away. They left the sitting room door open, as if they needed a direct line of sight at all times. "Now, tell me."

Castiel explained everything, starting with his plea to his mother, then his decision to leave. "Gabe's gonna tear you a new one for that," Sam murmured. Castiel gave him a look, and the angel continued.

He told Sam about searching for his father, finding his grave, and how Lailah put Dean back together. How real angels of the lord existed, and that he was a second generation, whatever that meant.

They sat in a stunned silence before Castiel asked his question. "Adam's really gone then?"

"Yeah," Sam said quietly. "I mean, he hasn't come back and there were definitely some human ashes, so…"

"So the curse is broken," Castiel finished. "Adam saved us."

"We're talking to Rufus Turner about building a statue in his honor. I thought Dean would like that."

"He will." Castiel smiled. "How's… everything?"

Sam shrugged. "There hasn't been anymore violence. No riots, nothing since the fire. The towns near the castle have actually sent some representatives to talk to us, and they seem surprisingly not angry."

"Huh," Castiel sat back. "You think the cursed land and water poisoned the villagers too? And now it's gone, they'll be happier?"

"I was thinking the same thing. We—"

The door slammed open once again, cutting Sam off. Gabe, with the same sort of confused and relief and rage filled expression that Sam had, stormed into the room. "Castiel god dammit!" he yelled.

"Shhh!" Sam and Castiel shushed at the same time.

"Don't you dare shush me!" he continued. " _It hurts to be here_? _Take care of everyone for me_? How the fuck could you leave me like that?" Gabe tackled Castiel off the couch, and for a second, he looked like he was going to hit him.

Instead, he crushed him in a hug. He and Sam were more alike than they thought. "Sorry," Castiel coughed in Gabe's death grip.

"Sorry does not cover it," he said into Castiel's shoulder. "You better make me dinner every night for a month. Don't you ever leave me like that again."

Castiel laughed and pulled Gabe back onto the couch. Sam rubbed his back, but he still looked furious. "We're all alive," Castiel said, diffusing the tension. "Dean's sleeping in his room and we're all back for good. No more disappearing."

Gabe relaxed a little at the news that Dean was alive. "You better tell me what happened."

After a second, Castiel spoke. "Sam, would you check on Dean? I need a minute."

"Yeah, of course," he smiled, kissing Gabe on the forehead and tiptoeing into the other room.

Castiel once again relayed the story. He remembered more things and told Gabe more details. Dean would tell him to write everything down, every little bit from the past year, into a book to be preserved with the castle's history.

"And that's when you came in," Castiel finished.

Gabe slumped back onto a throw pillow. "That sounds exhausting."

"You're telling me," Castiel smiled. "What happened here?"

He was quiet for a long moment. "You were only gone two days, but a lot happened." Castiel waited. "No one could find you the first day, though Sam said he talked to you for a few minutes. That was really a day of shock. Sam had a lot of meetings and he wasn't really all there, y'know?

That night was when it really sunk in, and he just sort of cried until he fell asleep. I guess I was still in shock too, so I drifted in and out for a few hours. Then I got up and wandered around, and I went down to the servants' quarters." He gave Castiel a short, sad look before averting his eyes.

"Apparently I woke the guards. They thought someone was hurt, but…" he shrugged. "It was just me after I read the note. I still don't forgive you for that."

Castiel folded a dark wing around Gabe's shoulders. If it were Gabe that left, he'd feel the same way. "I guess grief made me stupid," Castiel whispered. "I'll never leave again."

"You better not," Gabe snapped, but leaned his head on Castiel's shoulder anyway. "Today was the worst. Everything kind of came to a standstill. Sam could only stay in a meeting for an hour before he had to leave. He stayed in his room all day and he wanted to be alone, so I went down to assess the damage.

Charlie baked at least thirty pies, but the last few were sloppy and when I found her, she was crying into a can of cherry filling. I got a few of the redshirts to help her clean up, and I made everyone else help with repairs or polish the silver. We—" Gabe stopped. "We got out the dark linens. For the funeral."

"Gabe," Castiel said. "I'm so sorry."

"Everything just stopped. People were working, but nothing was done. Even Naomi looked like she hadn't slept. It's been rough." He suddenly sat up. "No one knows Dean's back. He just got here and no one knows he's alive."

They both sprang up from the couch. "Sam!" Gabe called. "Wake our Grace up, we need to tell everyone he's alive!"

o o o

Sam called a castle-wide meeting and everyone crowded into the throne room, servants and council members alike. Castiel helped Dean dress in something better than an old sheet. Luckily he was feeling a little better and could walk on his own, but Castiel and Gabe flanked him, ready to catch him at a moment's notice.

Castiel could tell that Dean was nervous. His… death had obviously changed him. He didn't have his kingly stride or his mask of fake confidence. He looked tired and haunted, but his face was more open and honest, like when he was with Castiel.

With a last squeeze of his hand, Dean opened the throne room doors.

It took a moment for everyone to see Dean approach his throne, but when they spotted him, it was chaos. There was screaming and crying and unintelligible words hurled forward, but when Dean held up a hand, the room quieted.

"This is not a trick," he began, "I did die, but I was brought back, and I will tell you how. I will tell the full truth."

It was more like the basics, but he outlined how he followed Adam into the flames, how he was burned alive, and how an angel of the lord repaired him and sent him back to his kingdom.

"I have been given a second chance, one I don't deserve," Dean continued. "Nevertheless, I stand here, and I'm going to use the life I've been given to fix the last hundred years of suffering this kingdom has endured. There will be some major governmental changes in the next weeks, and we will build small village governments so that you may all have a say in how our kingdom will thrive.

"And—" his voice cracked, and he paused. "And we will have a memorial ceremony for Adam Milligan, Adam Winchester, who gave his life to save ours."

"For Adam!" a servant yelled.

"For Adam!" chorused the crowd. They erupted with cheering, and when that died down, they yelled questions. "Your Grace! How did the angel fix you?" "Your Grace! What will happen with the angels now?" "Your Grace! Are we safe now?"

"If the servants could bring in chairs for everyone, I will answer every question you have."

Dean talked until nightfall, taking questions from everyone. Every now and then, he would bring in Castiel or Sam to answer something he wasn't around for or didn't know, but he did so well. He was honest but calm, humble but kingly, and clearly dedicated to moving the kingdom forward.

Dean really was back.

o o o

Castiel cried out, arching his back off the bed, then falling into the mattress. A moment later, Dean shouted his release and collapsed on top of Castiel, still inside him.

"Missed this," Castiel wrapped his arms and wings around Dean's sweaty form. "Missed you."

"Same here," Dean breathed. "God, I love you." He pulled out and wobbled to the bathroom for a washcloth.

Castiel smiled. Dean had been so busy for the last week, but he was there, he was here, he was back. They had gone through some rough times, but Castiel didn't know how happy he could truly be with Dean until after he'd felt that loss. It was amazing.

The bed dipped and Dean wiped him off, shimmying under the covers when he was done. Castiel folded one wing behind him and draped the other over the bed. They lay in silence for a long time.

"Cas?" Dean asked quietly.

"Hmm?" he hummed.

"Would you… uh…" Dean scratched his head. "I mean…"

"Dean," Castiel pushed himself up onto his elbows. "What is it?"

He chuckled. "This probably isn't the place to ask, and I don't even know how it would work, but…" He brushed a lock of dark hair off of Castiel's face. "Will you marry me?"

Castiel's mouth dropped open. Dean wanted to marry him?

"I mean I know you marked me and that's the angel equivalent or something, but I want to get you a ring and—"

Castiel crashed his lips onto Dean's, silencing him with the most forceful kiss of his life. "Of course I'll marry you! Oh my god!" he kissed Dean again, and he could feel the king smile into it.

After several more minutes, Castiel lay back with a huge grin on his face. "What will I be called? King part two? Queen? Angel with a crown?"

Dean chuckled. "I don't know. Something like that."

They lay together, counting their heartbeats. Castiel was grateful for both of their heartbeats. They'd come very close to laying still forever.

"This won't be easy," Dean murmured. "There's a lot to repair in the kingdom, and a lot to figure out with the Garrison. And we've never had two kings on the throne, so we'll have to figure that out."

"Dean, you literally died and came back to life," Castiel said. "I changed into another species. We can handle politics."

Castiel rolled the both of them over and brought his lips to Dean's, relishing the slow slide of skin. It wouldn't be easy, not in the slightest. But as long as they had each other, they could survive anything.

"Hey!" they heard the muffled voice of Sam and some knocks on the door. "You two have to come out soon, you'll be late to the council dinner!"

Castiel gave Dean another small kiss. "Duty calls," he grinned.

Castiel once again helped Dean dress, putting on a pair of pants himself. Dean left to be the great king that he always was, and Castiel opened the curtains. When the light shone enough to illuminate Dean's desk, Castiel sat and arranged a stack of blank papers. With a brand new green pen, he began to write.

 _"_ _Soldiers of the castle!"_ Castiel wrote. " _Open up!"_

 **A/N:** How was that? I know the ending was a little clipped, but I wanted to save room for a potential third story. Again, thank you for everyone who stayed with me all this time. You can't know how much your favorites and reviews mean to me.

I'm starting a few new pieces that I hope to get up to you soon, but as I always say, inspiration is a fickle bitch. Until then, I love you all, and happy reading.


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